Repercussions
by stephell
Summary: Thank you to everyone for sticking w/me on this looooong journey. This is my last WaT piece. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Teri, Jenn, you're both the best for sticking w/me and encouraging me.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Huge thanks to Teri who faithfully reads every word and leaves comments such as: Huh? Did you mean that? as well as the occasional, great job, ohmygosh you've made me cry. Teri, I couldn't do it without you.**

**Other than that the usual stips apply, don't own 'em, make no money off 'em, got no inside knowledge into 'em, nobody associated with 'em knows me.**

**Repercussions:**

**Chapter 1:**

Eight weeks. It was eight weeks since he and Danny had taken a prisoner on a late night transfer, eight weeks since a man named Emil Dornvald had pulled a blue van in front of the car he was driving, opened the back doors and changed everything, eight short, eight long, eight agonizing weeks.

Martin was exhausted. It was 10:00 a.m. Wednesday morning the third week of July, the summer heat was already blazing in the New York City furnace yet he wore baggy khakis with a drawstring waist and a long sleeve Henley shirt. He was cold. 45 minutes earlier he'd caught a cab from his apartment and was just now slowly making his way with the help of his new friend, Mr. Cane, up to the 12th floor.

He had an appointment with Dr. Lisa Harris, hooray for therapy, and Jack supposedly had some papers for him to review and sign. All in all he would be gone from his apartment for a little over four hours including the two-way commute and the appointments in the office yet, only 45 minutes into his 'workday' and Martin was exhausted.

Eight weeks, eight damn long, painful, hazy, lonely, claustrophobic, God I hope I never have to go through this again weeks, all he wanted to do was get back to work, forget Emil Dornvald, forget hospitals, forget physical therapy and forget this damn cane. Yet as the elevator signaled each ascending level to the 12th floor Martin felt something he hadn't felt for a long time, since his first day joining the MPU, Martin was nervous.

He leaned heavily against the paneled wall thankful for small gifts that allowed him not only an empty elevator car in the lobby but an uninterrupted trip to his destination, two events almost unheard of in this building. As he saw the light for Number 12 blink and felt the elevator stop he pressed down on the cane to assist in standing straight. As he straightened as best he could he closed his eyes as soft tissue and muscles protested, reminding him they still had yet to complete their healing.

The doors opened and Martin schooled his face so that the mask of confidence and good spirits, neither of which he felt, slipped into place. He slowly moved forward, turned right and walked down the corridor. His first stop was going to be the bullpen.

Sam had mentioned something about new work stations in the bullpen and that she and Danny had carefully transferred all his things from his old station to similar locations in the new. She said that some of the things he had pinned up didn't fit anymore since none of them had backs to their stations, so she'd collected those items and put them in an envelope and left it in his inbox.

Moving slowly down the corridor he slowed briefly to take in the sights and sounds of the office, experiences absent from his life of late, it was oddly comforting. A couple of agents and office personnel noted his arrival and greeted him cheerfully. He nodded and smiled in return, yep, thank heaven for all those forced Fitzgerald social gatherings and 'must attend events'—appearances Martin, must keep up appearances, the sound of his mother's voice echoed in his head.

Making his way to his desk he noted how orderly everything looked, Danny and Sam had taken care. He touched the new light over his desk looking for the switch—oops, touch activated, all right.

"Well, look who is back." A warm voice spoke behind him.

Martin slowly turned allowing an easy grin to appear on his face, Vivian.

"Hey."

Giving her a gentle hug he was barely able to hold back the wince and moan of pain as she squeezed, gently but still too much for his healing body.

"You look good."

"Thanks, you too, when did you get back?"

"Been back a week now."

"Great." Martin suddenly felt awkward. "I have an appointment with Lisa and Jack has some stuff for me."

"Good. Any idea of when you'll be back? I miss you."

"Well, I'm coming along. Physical therapy is slow but, you know how that goes, probably another month and a half."

"All right. Well, don't get too used to sleeping late in the morning, people go missing, we have to find them."

"Yeah, right." Martin felt like he was missing, where was he going to find himself?

Clearing his throat he tilted his head slightly to the clock on the wall, "I'm due in Lisa's at 10:15, better start the journey of not quite 1000 steps." He quipped wondering if it sounded as dull and forced to Vivian as it did to him.

She squeezed his arm affectionately and gave him a look of concern, understanding and – oh, God, I think that might be pity, Martin thought.

Walking slowly he managed to make it to Lisa's office without giving away the fact that he was trembling all over. He hadn't walked this much since – well, since yesterday's PT appointment and he was still tired from that session.

Stepping into her outer office he was happy to see the door to her private office open. He didn't relish sitting down out here only to have to attempt to gracefully rise and then move into her private office. As if she sensed his arrival Lisa appeared at the threshold of her door at precisely that moment.

"Martin, come on in."

She moved back into the office allowing him to follow unsupervised and at his own pace. He looked around trying to figure the best place to sit, the couch was inviting but he knew once he was down, he would not be able to get back up. The swivel chairs were also out, not enough support, choosing the chair that had a cushioned back yet rigid frame with arm rests he lowered himself down barely stifling the gasp of pain as the movement aggravated his still healing injuries.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Water would be great." Martin had been feeling cold and the air conditioning in the building had chilled him but now that he was sitting in the proverbial 'hot seat' he was starting to feel a bit warm.

Lisa pulled a plastic bottle of water from a small fridge in the corner and handed it to him along with a glass. He appreciated that she didn't twist the top off for him, his mother kept doing that for him whenever she came up to visit and it about drove him nuts.

Yes, he'd been shot. Yes, he was weak. Yes, he couldn't do much more right now besides wobble from the bed to the bathroom from the bathroom to the couch but he could open a bottle of water. He knew it wouldn't do any good as his mother would reprimand him for being ungrateful while at the same time want him to not strain himself and all of it would only draw more attention to his injuries so he just seethed and tried not to let it show, appearances you know.

"So, Martin, what do you want to talk about?" Lisa settled in a seat across from him, a pen and pad of paper in her hand. She'd placed a small recorder on the table between them and flicked it on.

He was a bit surprised at the question; it had been phrased as if he'd requested this session. "You don't have some sort of script?"

"No, we just kind of go with the flow of things." She looked at him calmly.

Great. Martin thought and looked away.

"Ah, the new desks look great." That sounded stupid inside his head before he said it; after he said it, it sounded more stupid.

Lisa just nodded, "Yeah, they seem to open up the bullpen a bit more. I see your desk is all set up."

"Yeah, Danny and Sam took care of that for me."

"Good. So, when you get back to work, you'll have that all taken care of."

"Right." Back to work, if it took clearing these sessions that was a very long way off indeed. Was Danny having as much trouble with these sessions as he was? Was Danny even required to go?

"Look, Martin, I know this is uncomfortable and difficult, once we find our footing, it gets a bit easier."

"Sure, our footing, any idea where to look?"

"Why don't you tell me how physical therapy is going."

"It's fine. It's good." If forced torture can be considered good. Martin thought unconsciously putting one arm across his chest as if to protect the injuries.

Lisa noted the movement. "Martin, it's just you and me. How is physical therapy?"

"I hate it." Martin didn't intend for that to come out. "I mean, I used to run anywhere from one to five miles on any given day, now after an hour which includes water therapy, some light stretches, sitting, standing, walking up and down some stairs – I hate it." Damn, Fitzgerald, when did you become so talkative.

"Water therapy, how does that feel?"

Martin tensed noticeably and placed both arms across his torso. "That's all right. The water is warm and helps keep me balanced so it's nice to just take my time and helps me relax."

"Good." Lisa noted the protective posture Martin had adopted so she remained relaxed and settled into her chair. "I noticed you got quite uncomfortable when I asked you about water therapy, why?" Lisa kept her voice carefully neutral.

"I – I'm just not very comfortable."

"Here or when you're in the water?"

Martin was silent and Lisa sat silently waiting him out.

At last he looked her straight in the eye as he answered. "Both."

"Fair enough." Lisa grinned openly.

Another period of silence stretched between them. Finally Martin sipped from his bottle of water before speaking, his voice soft yet somewhat bitter. "It's not like I don't see them all the time."

"True, but it is one thing for you to see them, another thing for someone else, right?" Lisa knew what 'them' meant.

Martin didn't answer, he just looked down.

"So when you look at them, what do you see?"

How could he answer that? If he told her he woke up most nights frantically scrambling for the light to check that he wasn't bleeding, would she admit him to a hospital, anything but that.

Did he tell her that, when he first was able to take a shower again, he winced as the water hit him certain that somehow it would make its way inside his skin and damage his still healing insides?

Did he tell her that, when he used soap over the scars, sometimes he could 'feel' the stinging sensation inside his body as if the soap had come in contact with his injured lung and intestine?

How could he tell her that, when he was doing physical therapy and his body started to sweat, he was afraid to look at his shirt for fear of seeing blood seeping through the fabric.

If he told her any of that, what would she do?

Lisa decided to try a different approach; she could see Martin wrestling with his thoughts. "Do they bother you?"

"Do they bother me?"

Good, he was talking again. "Yes, do the scars bother you?"

"Yes, they bother me."

"How?"

"Well, sometimes they itch." Martin grinned a little hoping his bad humor would help diffuse the tension. Lisa gave him a small smile in return; her eyes were gentle, not judgmental.

"Fair enough, is there any other way that the scars bother you?"

"It's not like—it's not like I'm—I don't know, it's not like I go around with my shirt off or anything thinking I'm some gift or that now I'm damaged or disfigured --" Martin stopped, he hadn't meant for that to come out.

"Martin, when you see someone who has been injured or scarred or burned or beaten or anything like that, what is the first thing that comes to your mind?"

"I wonder what happened."

"Do you think they're scary that they shouldn't be walking in public that they should be hiding away?"

"No. I wonder what happened to them. I wonder how they got hurt."

"Do you feel pity? Do you feel like you want to stare at them?"

"I don't feel pity. I guess I wonder what happened and if they are all right."

"So you want to maybe help them?"

"I want to know that someone did."

"Do you think that is one of the reasons that you got into the FBI?"

"I think I probably did because of my father." Martin warmed to this topic, as it was less about what had recently happened to him. Everyone knew who his father was and Martin had worked here for three years now so no one looked at him as having gotten the job thanks to his father. "I think regardless of the relationship you have with your parents you're influenced by what they do for their career."

"So, your father is in the FBI and you wanted to become an agent, was he happy that you wanted to follow his career choice?"

Martin gave a small laugh. "No."

"Why?"

"I don't think he saw this as the right job for me."

"Why do you say that?"

Lisa watched as Martin's face darkened and she heard the hardness in his tone when he responded.

"More like he had plans of a different direction; you, Dr. Lisa Harris are seated in the presence of Senator Martin Fitzgerald – that is if my father had had his way."

"I see. Well, nice to meet you, mythical Senator Martin Fitzgerald." The poor joke did as she'd hoped; it eased some of the tension in Martin's face for the moment, then he continued and the bitterness she'd heard earlier returned.

"I don't know, I think my father is more concerned with appearances and being seen with the right people and in the right place than helping people. I don't think he thought I'd be very good at such an earthy job. And I don't want anything to do with the fakery that seems to make up so much of politics, all show and very little substance."

After the session with Martin was over and he had left the office with the appointment card for next week, Dr. Harris moved to her desk, opened the file she had created for Martin's sessions and flipped to her notes page. There she transferred some of her scribbled notes from the pad she'd used during the session.

Notes from first session with Special Agent Martin Fitzgerald:

In pain, physical, emotional, mental

Frustrated at lengthy recovery; doubts will ever be fit again

Doesn't want to be pitied

Father not happy with Martin's career choice

Martin sees his father as more interested in appearance than substance

Martin is not close to his father yet yearns to be respected by the man, even to the point of defying him

Too proud to ask for help

Too afraid he needs help

Lost

After finishing her notes she sat back and considered a brief conversation she'd had with Assistant Deputy Director Victor Fitzgerald about two weeks ago. Apparently he'd been in the NYC office for some meeting or another and was getting ready to head back, she assumed to DC but perhaps he was staying overnight in the city to spend a little time with his son.

Lisa Harris didn't dabble in gossip for gossips sake but she did listen and mentally catalogue tidbits to be best prepared when she was called upon to work with agents and she'd heard that Victor was in the NYC area a lot since Martin had been shot. She didn't know a lot about the two men's personal dynamic but she hoped this was good for both of them.

Leaning back in her chair Lisa read through her notes from today's session and thought about what Martin hadn't said as well as what he had said and played that back in her mind with the image and soundtrack playing of his father's arrival at her office…

_It was Thursday late afternoon and she was ready to call it quits for the day. Since it was early July the days were fabulously long and the weather was perfect. She was looking forward to getting home, changing into her jogging clothes, grabbing her dog and going for a run. _

_As she gathered her briefcase and locked her desk she heard footsteps in the outer office and then Victor Fitzgerald appeared at her door gently knocking on the frame._

"_Dr. Harris, I was wondering if you had a brief moment." _

_He looked a bit uncomfortable, not something Lisa was certain she could ever recall him looking._

"_Yes, Assistant Director, I have a moment, come in, have a seat." Lisa set her briefcase back down ready to take a seat for this impromptu meeting._

"_No, no. I don't want to take any time, I just -- can you give me one second?" _

_Lisa was a bit surprised when Victor disappeared from her office door and waited curiously. A couple of moments later he reappeared at her door, suit jacket draped over one arm, tie folded and stuffed into the inner pocket of the jacket._

"_I come here not as the Assistant Director, I come here as – um – I come here as a father. I just wanted to say thank you. I know you're going to be conducting Martin's sessions when he starts them and I just wanted to say thank you. You have a tremendous reputation and as a father, I'm glad to know that you'll be there to help my son." _

_With that he stuck out his hand awkwardly, Lisa put hers in his and he gave it a professional squeeze and then turned around and headed out the door._

Martin made his way down the corridor slowly, sitting had been great but it had also allowed his body to get used to not moving and it was definitely screaming at him that it was time for some rest. He hoped Jack was in his office and he'd be able to do whatever paperwork needed and get home, he wanted to lie down.

Making his way to Jack's office he looked into the bullpen and noted that Vivian was working at her desk but Sam and Danny were nowhere in sight, seemed appropriate he thought dully, at least regarding Danny. Coming to Jack's door he peered in and was enormously grateful to see Malone sitting at his desk poring over papers. Taking as deep a breath as his sore chest and lungs allowed he knocked.

Jack heard the knock and looked up and saw Martin, pale and thin but fairly close to upright, at his door. Standing up he motioned and spoke at the same time, "Martin, come in, have a seat."

"Thanks, Jack." Once again Martin tried to move as casually as he had in Lisa's office until he positioned himself over a chair and then settled into it biting back the moan that sought to escape, God he needed to go home and lie back down and take a pill, it was getting close.

Jack closed the door, sat at the edge of his desk and eyed his still healing agent. "You look good." Better than covered in blood and unconscious on a wet street, better than hooked to a ventilator, better than…better than a lot of possibilities, Jack thought.

"Thanks, I – I feel pretty good." Did that sound like as much of a lie as I think it does, Martin couldn't help but wonder. He looked at Jack who was eyeing him critically but thankfully without pity, well, Jack Malone rarely eyed anyone with pity and Martin knew at this point he'd about give up if Jack Malone started pitying him.

"I'm glad this worked out with your appointment with Dr. Harris. I've received the update from your physician and your physical therapist both seem to think you're making steady progress and plan to reevaluate your return to work status in another month, is that what you're expecting?"

Jack decided to get right to the business at hand because, if he was honest with himself, he wasn't sure how to handle Martin right now. If he was really honest with himself, he'd admit he didn't know how to handle any of his team right now.

Viv had returned a week ago and was already chomping at the bit to get out of the office having been cleared for full duty, but he couldn't bring himself to do it just yet. Danny was still unpredictable, more than usual and in a dangerous way this time. Jack hoped that sessions with Lisa would help but it had been eight weeks and it wasn't getting any better. Sam was the only one he didn't have any difficulty with right now and that in itself was disturbing.

He wasn't able to pinpoint exactly what his emotions were having realized that Samantha and Martin had been a couple for almost nine months, it wasn't jealousy after all, he and Samantha had only had an affair and he was well past it having simply needed an escape from a bad marriage and Samantha had been willing and able and while he regretted how badly he had ended it with her, he didn't regret ending it. He loved her, no doubt about that but he wasn't in love with her.

But was she in love with Martin and, if she was, why wasn't she more affected by his near death? True she had been emotional and struggling with her professionalism at the scene but she'd pulled herself through it. Later, after finding out Martin was going to live and coming back from visiting him at the hospital while he was still sedated, she'd seemed--calm, almost fine as if nothing was wrong and ever since then she hardly mentioned him.

Jack realized Martin was speaking and that he hadn't been listening so he tuned back in.

"—therapy yesterday and that's what they told me, another month and they'd do a joint evaluation of my status." So glad everyone else is deciding what my status is, gee, wouldn't want any say in that, then again right now my status is wilting, quickly.

"Good, well, it's—it's good to see you. Probably should stop by one afternoon and see how you are but --" Jack let the words dangle, both of them knew he'd never stop by, they didn't do that. Sure, an occasional dinner after a case or couple of drinks at a bar, but hang out at each other's place, no that was something Sam and Danny did, didn't they?

"Best call ahead so I'm in my best pajamas."

Jack gave a small grin that Martin mirrored.

"I'll settle for an occasional phone call, that way I don't have to worry if there are any dishes in the sink." Hell, Martin thought, he didn't have to worry about dishes being in the sink these days he wasn't all that eager to be eating much of anything.

"Yeah, well, like I said, it's good to see you and I'll be glad when you're back." Jack meant it and he put warmth behind the words and for a moment he saw a flicker of something, appreciation, perhaps even relief in Martin's eyes.

"I'll be glad to get back, daytime television has nothing on what we do everyday. I'll call you when there are any updates and I'll be back next week for another meeting with Dr. Harris."

"Good, she's really good." Jack meant that too. "You got a ride back home?"

"Yeah, I took a cab down, I'll just grab one when I get back down to the lobby. Tell Danny thanks for helping transfer my things over to my new desk." With that Martin hoisted himself back up and started to the door.

Jack stopped him by putting his hand out, Martin took it and the two men shook hands, weird, one had almost died, the other blamed himself despite not having any control over the situation and the best they could come up with was a handshake, still it was something.

"See you next week."

"Right."

Jack watched Martin slowly make his way down the corridor and then he returned to his desk, grabbed his phone, dialed the security desk at the main entrance and explained that Special Agent Martin Fitzgerald was on his way down and Jack wanted a cab ready to take him home. The guard assured him he'd take care of it.

Hanging up Jack felt a little bit better, maybe he wasn't good at the direct contact kind of stuff but he could do a little behind the scenes. It might not be much but it was something. Settling back behind his desk he picked up the file he had been reviewing and started reading where he'd left off. It took only a moment for his mind to click on something Martin had said:

"_Tell Danny I appreciate him transferring my things over to my new desk_."

Jack removed the reading glasses he'd just put back on and stared thoughtfully out to the bullpen, "tell Danny" wasn't Danny talking to Martin?

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

**Repercussions:**

**Chapter 2:**

Danny heard the ring indicating the elevator had arrived at the 12th floor. Needing to get the file he held in his hand upstairs as quick as possible he jogged the last few feet intent on catching the car before it left. As he came around the corner he saw the car obediently waiting as if just for him. Reaching forward he grabbed the doors as they were just starting to close and that's when his eye caught the movement down the corridor.

Looking left Danny saw Martin, dressed in loose fitting casual pants and a long sleeved jersey, slowly making his way down the hall with the help of a cane. When had Martin gotten a cane? He watched his friend and partner slowly make his way down the corridor and disappear out of sight and thought that Martin looked thin even in the loose fitting clothes, and he wondered why on a day that was as hot as it was outside he would possibly be wearing a long-sleeved shirt.

As he boarded the elevator and pushed the button for his destination his mind turned over those thoughts as well as his feelings at seeing Martin again. For the second time in less than a minute he wondered when Martin had gotten a cane.

When Danny returned to the bullpen later, he saw Vivian working at her desk. It was great to have Viv back, the office seemed a bit more normal with her there.

Danny walked up behind Vivian and stood behind her waiting for her to acknowledge him.

"Did you need something, Agent Taylor?" Vivian asked not even looking up from the email she was answering.

"I'm just reminding myself again how thankful I am that I didn't take your desk while you were gone. I much prefer being closer to the corridor—closer to the door."

"Um-hmm, so you can make your quick escape at the end of the day to woo some lady?"

"That's it."

Vivian finished her email and hit the send button before swiveling around to look at the younger agent.

"I saw Martin about a half hour ago." She began without preamble.

"Really." Danny feigned surprise.

Vivian's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, something was wrong here.

"Yes, he has a couple of appointments this morning."

"Good, good. How'd he look?" Damn, why did he ask that that was sure to tip her off.

Vivian paused and fixed Danny with an unflinching stare, gotcha.

"He looked good considering. You know, a bit thin, a bit pale but that's to be expected. How did he look the last time you saw him?" Vivian asked staring straight into his eyes. She wasn't surprised when Danny's gaze unfocused a bit and his eyes dropped away from hers. Yep, something is amiss here.

How did he look the last time I saw him Danny thought, Oh, Viv, you don't want to know.

_Danny had been sitting with Martin and talking to him, saying basically anything that came to mind – even the road construction going on – anything to drown out the sound of that damn beeping machine. Suddenly the beeping of the monitor sped up and instead of maintaining a steady pace it became rapid, almost frantic._

_Leaning forward Danny reached out and grasped his partner's forearm in an effort to alert him that he wasn't alone. While he watched he saw Martin's eyes moving rapidly underneath the lids._

_It wasn't long until Martin's eyelids fluttered open and shut a few times before at last he was able to hold them open. Danny could see his friend's pupils were dilated with all the meds pumped into his system and he could see by the bleary, dazed way Martin looked around and tried to focus that he was having trouble seeing._

_Danny stood up and bent over the bed so he was directly in Martin's line of sight; it worked. Martin focused his attention on Danny and tried to focus his vision, when that didn't work he opened his mouth trying to speak._

_Simultaneously many things happened, Danny realized Martin was gagging, panic flooded into Martin's eyes as he struggled against the tube that was choking him, or so he thought, the machine began screaming its alarm, and Danny shouted, "Hey! Help, I need some help in here!" _

_He turned back to Martin trying to still his weakly thrashing friend who continued to choke and gag on the plastic tube unable to recognize it as help only recognizing that he was gagging and unable to breathe._

_Danny could see the panic in Martin's eyes. Suddenly nurses and doctors ran into the room one of them held Martin's legs down and others held him down by the shoulders trying to stop him from hurting himself. Danny placed his hands on either side of Martin's head and forced him to face him._

"_Martin, it's Danny. You're all right. Stop, man. You're all right. Just stop. Martin, stop fighting, just stop fighting. You're all right; I'm here and you're all right." Danny forced his tone to remain calm and even._

_Danny felt someone roughly push him away, in anger he whirled on the person realizing it was Dr. Ruggio. Unable to see Martin with Dr. Ruggio in his way he listened as Ruggio leaned over Martin, grasped the breathing tube and began to speak:_

"_Martin, I'm Dr. Ruggio. I'm going to remove this tube, now. Take a breath and blow out, now."_

_In seconds Danny heard Martin gagging, saw the tubing coiled into a pan and taken from the room, heard the sound of suction as built up mucus and fluid was cleared from Martin's mouth and throat. Trying not to gag Danny stood in stunned amazement as the medical personnel worked efficiently and quietly around his friend._

_Ruggio moved slightly and Danny caught sight of Martin, now free of the breathing tube and tape, his breathing aided by nasal cannulas looped over his ears and inserted just into his nostrils. His friend was still confused and tried to move around but Danny could see the efforts were weaker than before. He watched as another nurse appeared with a syringe that she inserted into a port in the IV and it wasn't long before Martin's body sagged on the mattress, his head lolled slightly to the side and his eyes closed again and stayed closed._

"_Sir, he's all right now." Dr. Ruggio was saying to him. Danny barely heard him, barely noted some of the staff removing some of the equipment away from the bed and cleaning up wrappers and assorted material used moments before._

_Danny continued to stare at his friend's pale face that was now completely relaxed under the effects of the heavy medication. He watched as the doctor lifted the coverings and peeled down the gown front; he didn't want to see but he couldn't look away. In horror he saw the stitches crisscrossing Martin's chest that was mottled purple and blue, saw the tubing from the chest tube and its bloody drainage; he watched the doctor gently touch the incisions with his gloved hand and then place his stethoscope and listen._

_Danny remained frozen in place while the staff worked around him checking Martin's injuries, surgical incisions, vital signs, straightening the bedding and covering his wounds again and finally dimming the light over the bed and then Danny, thinking he was alone, sank bonelessly into the chair he had jumped up from some ten minutes earlier._

_He leaned forward and his head fell into his hands as he huddled miserably unaware he was being watched._

"_Agent --"_

_If Danny was startled, he didn't show it, on automatic he responded, never lifting his head._

"_Taylor."_

"_Agent Taylor, I'm Dr. Ruggio."_

_Danny looked up._

"_Martin is all right." The doctor held both his hands up as he saw the look of incredulity pass over Danny's features._

"_I know none of what happened is all right, but he, right now, is doing just fine considering. What happened is not atypical of a patient who has undergone acute trauma. In all likelihood he doesn't even know what happened to put him here, nor does he even know where here is but he woke up, was confused and began to fight the ventilator and then panic set in as he thought he couldn't breathe"_

_Danny just nodded and turned back to Martin._

"_The sedative we gave him will keep him under for the next several hours and we intend to keep him moderately sedated for the next few days. He really is doing well considering. He didn't do any damage to his incision sites and his vitals are back to where they were before this incident happened."_

_Danny heard the doctor's words and some part of him appreciated them but for the moment all he could do was lean forward, rest his elbows on his knees, put his hands up to his chin and watch his unconscious partner. Danny felt the doctor's hand briefly on his shoulder prior to him leaving the room but he never turned his focus from Martin._

_In his mind he didn't see Martin lying there heavily sedated, he saw Martin plucking in bewilderment at his shirt as it rapidly turned red with blood; he saw Martin slumped to the side trying to look at him as he heard his own voice calling, "Martin. Martin." He saw Martin lying on the newly rained upon pavement, unconscious while he pressed down on the two bloody holes, desperately trying to stop the blood rushing out and hearing the distant wail of sirens._

_Danny never saw or heard Victor and Jack arrive, never heard the doctor appraising them of what had just happened, never even knew Jack entered the room and was talking to him; he just stared at Martin._

"Danny."

Vivian's voice penetrated his thoughts and he realized she was staring at him curiously.

"So, are you going to tell me?" Vivian's face changed from all out concern to a gentle smile that reached her eyes as it always did when they talked.

"Sorry, I was just trying to decide if perhaps I should have taken over your desk space, little closer to a window--"As usual he decided to hide behind humor, even if it was poor humor.

"I see, so you aren't going to answer my question." Vivian chided him.

"Which question was that, my lady?" Danny asked moving away, back to his desk where he began to shuffle through some papers."

"I asked you how Martin looked the last time you saw him."

Danny didn't look up from his aimless search at his desk, "Um, I'm not sure, it's been real busy here, you know; only Sam, Jack and I, course now you're back so things will get a little easier."

"Danny--" Vivian tried again letting a little sharpness slip into her tone.

"It's been busy all right. Just give me a break. Why does everyone think it has to be me to see Martin and tell them how he is? Just because we were in the car together, just because I walked away with nothing more than a headache, just because I held my bare hands on his chest for God knows how long until the ambulance came, just because I tried -- I tried so hard but the blood just kept coming and coming and …" Danny stopped as he realized that Vivian was standing right in front of him. He didn't remember seeing her stand up much less walk over to him.

As if he didn't have enough guilt knowing that he'd escaped the ambush with nothing but a small cut and bump on his head but every time someone saw him they'd throw it in his face that he was standing and walking and breathing just fine while at that exact same moment Martin was lying in a drug-induced coma breathing courtesy of a machine or that Martin was lying in the hospital half stoned on painkillers or that Martin wasn't due back for weeks or months or that Martin was now using a cane to keep himself upright, now he had guilt because he hadn't been to see Martin since that day at the hospital, well sort of.

Ever since that day Danny had avoided seeing Martin unless he'd called ahead and confirmed that he was asleep, then he'd stop and leave a note saying that he was sorry he'd missed him while he was awake. Once Martin had gone home, Danny had managed to connect a couple times over the phone and had sent a couple emails that Martin had answered.

"Danny." This time Vivian's tone was softer.

Danny blinked back the memories and the guilt that was gnawing away at him. Turning from Vivian he grabbed a stack of the papers on his desk and started to leave.

"Sorry, Viv, it's just been a lot that's all. Anyway, I'd best find Sam; we've got to head out and canvas a few of the addresses from yesterday where no one was home."

"Okay." Vivian responded resignedly, this wasn't over yet.

Vivian watched as he almost ran from the bullpen down the corridor. Sighing she returned to her desk and grabbed the phone ready to track down some of the information that had been emailed to her on their latest case. As she was starting to dial the phone her gaze fell upon a photo she kept on her desk, a portrait of her, Marcus and Reggie. Reaching out she gently touched the frame thankful that she was still a part of their lives, thankful that it appeared there would be more family portraits and that she'd had their constant support and presence during her own illness.

She remembered her own frustration at being confined to bed in the hospital, only let out for some short walks up and down the hall. Still, that had only lasted for a few days; once she was home she was encouraged to walk several times a day for short periods each time to slowly build up her strength as well as her heart muscle. What had seemed like an eternity was in reality only a few weeks and she was back at work for a week of office duty and then cleared for a full duty, something Jack had yet to accept.

Shaking her head to clear it she touched the frame one last time then took a glance around the bullpen; it was going to take time. Schooling herself she bent to her work and allowed time to pass her by as she sorted through the paperwork of their latest missing person.

An hour or so later movement just outside the bullpen caught her eye; looking up from her work Vivian noted Martin's slow progress down the hall towards the elevators. She could see that this excursion which mostly was spent sitting in either a car or a chair had exhausted him to the point where she could readily see he was struggling to appear strong as he wearily made his way down the corridor to the elevator.

Watching him make his way slowly down the hall brought back to mind the emotions she'd had upon first being told of his injuries…

_It was four days since the shooting, four days since her heart surgery when Marcus and Jack entered her room together looking serious. Vivian had brightened at seeing her boss enter the room but the serious looks on both Marcus' and Jack's faces had rapidly dispelled her cheer._

"_What's going on?" Vivian looked piercingly into first Marcus' eyes and then fixed her gaze on Jack, she knew it was work related since Jack was there._

_Marcus sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his, she felt him tighten his grip and she squeezed back knowing something bad was coming._

"_Viv," Jack began, "I need to tell you something and while it's pretty bad it could have been worse."_

"Jack, what's happened, Sam, Danny, Martin…" She knew it had to do with one if not all of them.

_Jack plunged straight ahead._

"_Danny and Martin were transferring a prisoner when they were ambushed. Danny's fine, a little cut and a bruise to his thick head," Jack chuckled slightly trying to ease the tension. Vivian's lips twitched slightly but her eyes remained riveted and hard, she knew Jack hadn't gotten to the worst news, Martin._

"_Martin was hit twice." Instinctively Jack reached out and took Vivian's other hand in his and held it between his two hands needing that contact right then._

"_He's critical but stable. The doctors have already taken him off the respirator. If he continues to improve, he'll be transferred out of ICU in another five days or so. I know it sounds bad but believe me this is much better than it was four days ago…" Jack trailed off as he inadvertently let slip that tidbit of information._

_Vivian's eyes widened and her eyes flashed angrily from Marcus to Jack and back before settling on Jack._

"_Four days ago, this happened four days ago and you're just now telling me!"_

"_Baby, we couldn't tell you sooner; your doctor wanted you to have the maximum rest and recovery before we told you and it's only because your latest tests came back so positive that we're allowed to tell you today." Marcus implored needing her to hear him and see the reason. To emphasize his point he bent down and kissed her hand and then brought it to his cheek and held it there._

"_Marcus, oh, Marcus, I do understand why but…if something had happened—if--" Vivian stopped as her emotions rose. Swallowing hard several times and then taking several deep breaths she calmed herself again._

"_Jack, I want you to tell me everything, now." _

As Vivian though back on that day she shuddered at how close it had been and how the next several days were filled with highs and lows, highs of being told she was exceeding recovery expectations and that she would be able to go home sooner than originally anticipated and lows when she was continually not allowed to talk to Martin or see him. Seeing him at that time would have been impossible as they were in two different hospitals but not to be able to talk to him seemed doubly cruel...

_She received daily updates from Jack: Martin's being transferred to a step down unit, higher level of care than normal medical/surgical floor but less intensive than ICU. Martin's in a regular room, private, courtesy of the FBI—for once Vivian was glad that Victor Fitzgerald was who he was in the Bureau. _

_By the time he was in a private room she had been home for several days and she insisted and threatened some level of police involvement if her husband and her doctor didn't okay her for a short visit to see Martin. She'd had enough of telephone or in person reports; she needed to see him for herself. _

_So, on her 16__th__ day after surgery, the 16__th__ day after Martin had been shot, she was wheeled into Martin's hospital room; the wheelchair was completely unnecessary but she had acquiesced to the absurd demand just to see Martin _

_The tears welled up in her eyes at that moment as she saw him propped up slightly in the bed that was also inclined a bit to take some pressure off his chest. He looked pale and thin, his eyes were closed and she could see the IV line dripping into his arm and she saw the PCA pump attached also. Marcus quietly wheeled her up to Martin's side, kissed the top of her head and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him._

_Vivian reached her hand out and gently took Martin's hand into hers and stroked it, the tears that had gathered in her eyes leaked out and one of them fell on Martin's hand. She blinked trying to clear them from her eyes He's going to be fine, why are you crying? She grabbed a tissue from the box that was next to the bed and quickly dabbed away at her eyes drying the tears. When she looked back at Martin, he was looking straight at her and a smile spread across his face. _

"_Viv," his voice was no more than a whisper but it was his voice._

"_Hey there, you copying me to get some time off from work, bed rest isn't all it's cracked up to be, you know." She smiled at him and squeezed his hand feeling him squeezing hers back in return._

"_Good to see you, you all right?" Martin's voice was breathy and soft but it was a wonderful sound to Vivian's ears._

"_Oh, sweetie, I'm doing just fine. Doctors are very happy with my progress and I've exceeded their expectations." She wanted to reassure him. Here he was lying there recovering from near death and he was worried about her. Well, no different then her lying there recovering from her own near death experience and worrying about him. They were so alike in so many ways. _

"_Overachiever." Martin whispered and smiled at her again. _

"_That's me, always trying that much harder. It's so good to see you. I'm so sorry for what happened." _

_Martin closed his eyes tiredly and Vivian knew he was desperately in need of rest. She didn't want to tire him and had been warned that whenever anyone visited him the visits were very short or consisted of the visitor sitting and watching him sleep._

"_Just rest, Martin, I know it's boring and frustrating but just let yourself sleep." She whispered and reached up with one hand to touch his forehead, slightly warm. _

"_You came all this way seems rude--"Martin stopped needing to breathe before continuing and she hushed him._

"_Don't kid yourself, handsome, I was in the neighborhood." Her levity worked, although he gave her a knowing look, he didn't try finishing his thought, instead he lightly squeezed her hand again and allowed his eyes to drift shut and he relaxed._

_She sat there for another several minutes just holding his hand, humming softly and watching him sleep. When Marcus reentered the room, she reluctantly let go of his hand and then tucked the blanket a little straighter on the bed and allowed herself to be wheeled from the room. _

Vivian roused herself from her reverie as she saw Jack staring from his desk into the bullpen. Even from this distance she could see he was troubled; it was going to be quite some time before their well-oiled team returned to its former efficiency. Sighing at the realization she'd done all she could at this point she turned back to her desk, picked up the file and resumed reading.

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

Again, many thanks to Teri, my fabulously faithful and smart beta, who encourages me and makes me stretch my ideas.

**Repercussions**:

**Chapter 3**:

Martin entered his apartment exactly four hours and 22 minutes after he'd left, the ride home had taken a little longer due to a stalled car blocking several lines of traffic thus requiring the taxi driver to take a different route, a significantly longer one. Martin didn't care; he was home and wanted nothing more than to take a pain pill and lie down.

Staggering into his bedroom he shucked off his shoes and eased down onto the bed. It was still hard to get comfortable at first and he winced and moaned out loud as he settled onto the mattress, pulled the sheet up around him and breathed in and out carefully trying to settle the dizzying pain. No one to hear, no appearances to keep up

Hell, I've been home for three weeks already and still this feels like the first day I got back home. Martin gritted his teeth with frustration, angry at the pain that never left him, angry at the exhaustion that was as omnipresent as the pain, angry at the pills he had to take and relieved he had them -- just plain angry.

As Martin slowly relaxed his body on the mattress his mind slipped back to those first few days at the hospital after being moved from the ICU to the step-down unit, and the realization of what had happened to him started to clarify. Even now, eight weeks later, it seemed unreal to him that there was a week of his life that was a blank. He didn't remember being in the car with Danny. He had no memory of going to surgery, nothing about those first couple of days on a ventilator and several days under heavy sedation as his body adapted to the blood loss, the multiple transfusions as well as the ten-hour surgery that had been necessary to complete all the repairs and save his life.

Martin didn't remember the day he was taken off the ventilator or how he apparently had awakened periodically to stare at whoever was seated by his bed, sometimes it was his father, other times it was his mother, his Uncle Roger had been there and Jack and Sam and he guessed Danny as well but Martin had no memory of any of that.

Martin's first memory was of waking up in the step-down unit and feeling like he was coming out of a deep, heavy sleep, the kind that happens when you wake up five minutes before your alarm clock goes off and instead of getting up you decide to indulge in five more minutes of warmth, fall deeply into REM sleep and then get jolted awake by the alarm only to feel drugged and sluggish.

Finding a comfortable position on his mattress Martin waited for the pain medication to kick in and dull the fire in his chest and abdomen all the while allowing the words and memories of those first few days to envelop him.

"_It's okay, Martin, take it easy." Victor stood beside Martin's bed one hand on his son's shoulder, the other gripping the bedrail so that his knuckles were white._

_Martin struggled to breathe slowly as the doctor was telling him. Shot. The word bounced like a ping pong ball in his mind and he struggled to catch it and stop it…shot…shot…shot._

"_When?" Was the first question that came to mind._

_Dr. Ruggio and Victor exchanged glances before Victor decided to field that one._

"_A week ago." _

_Both Victor and Dr. Ruggio watched Martin's reaction. Martin closed his eyes and allowed his mind to process that information. I was shot a week ago. I've lost an entire week. I was shot a week ago._

_When Martin swallowed a couple of times and reopened his eyes he flicked his gaze first to his father who was watching him intently and then back to Dr. Ruggio, a man that he only remembered meeting today but who obviously had met him a – a week ago._

"_How? Was it work? Was anyone else hurt? I – I don't remember – I don't feel anything – I don't feel anything." Martin started to panic as he realized that while he did feel exhausted he didn't feel anything else. Oh, God, I don't feel anything._

"_Martin, take it easy, you're going to be all right." Victor's hand pressed a little harder on Martin's shoulder trying to make sure his son didn't move around too much or he would feel something despite all the heavy medication pumping into his system._

"_Mr. Fitzgerald, Martin," Dr. Ruggio began, "The reason you don't feel anything, as you've said, is because we have you on heavy painkillers and sedatives to help you rest. You are not paralyzed nor were you ever. Trust me when I tell you that before long you will feel something and it won't be pleasant although we will do everything possible to keep you comfortable and minimize the pain so you can rest and your body can heal."_

_Martin began to relax again as he felt his father's hand on his shoulder and he saw the sincerity in Dr. Ruggio's eyes and heard it in his voice._

"_Good, Martin, that's good just breathe slowly and I'll explain your injuries." Dr. Ruggio waited another few moments and then started to explain…_

Martin had had several weeks to process the fact that he'd been shot; it was no longer a shock to him to think about it. What was still disconcerting to him was that his memory remained a blank, it was as if there was a blip in his mind; he remembered bits and pieces of the missing person's case and then suddenly he was awaking in a hospital bed.

No matter how often he tried or how much effort he put into the attempt Martin was unable to fill in any of the blanks and while his head had long ago recognized the fact that life had continued on while he lay unaware, recognition and acceptance were not the same; he just couldn't accept that there was nothing, a void. At last the painkillers took effect and Martin faded off into a deep sleep.

"_Okay. Easy, son, let me get the door and I'll have you inside in no time." Victor Fitzgerald fumbled with the key ring, Martin's key ring, and finally managed to get the apartment unlocked. He looked at Martin and saw the exhaustion in his son's eyes and decided to risk Martin's wrath and reached forward and steadied his son with his hand on his elbow. Gently placing his arm behind Martin's back he helped guide him into the apartment._

_Once inside he followed Martin's lead allowing him to decide, couch or bed. He smiled slightly when Martin opted for the couch, couldn't blame him. Sam had helped Victor get the apartment ready for Martin's homecoming. She had laundered the sheets in the bedroom and remade the bed and set up blankets and pillows on the couch in case that was the resting place of choice._

_Sam had also gone out and purchased some items they both hoped Martin would eat, simple things like applesauce and ginger ale, saltines as well as some tea, there was a couple of servings of chicken soup, heavy on the broth and chicken, light on spices and fibrous items like celery and broccoli, there was also several servings of homemade tapioca pudding. _

_Victor remembered the first time he'd realized Sam was more than a colleague and a friend to Martin and over the past few weeks she'd proven loyal and helpful to Martin and to some extent to Victor. _

_Victor watched Martin settle on the couch and then he turned away so as not to see the wince of pain and the awkward way his son settled on the cushion. He knew his son, despite what Martin often thought, and knew he'd just frustrate him if he watched him try to get comfortable. Victor also admitted to himself that he didn't want to see his son's pain; not because he didn't care, but because there wasn't a damn thing he could do to ease it and that was unacceptable._

"Victor – Victor, did you hear what I asked?"

Victor blinked his eyes rapidly trying to clear them. For a moment he was disoriented and then he realized where he was, DC, conference room, surrounded by a dozen or so other deputies and full directors for the Bureau.

"Yes, I'm sorry, I was processing some information. What was it you needed?"

"I was asking if you remembered that we have to brief the director of Homeland Security tomorrow morning and if you have all the materials you need to complete your presentation."

"I do have them all done but I'll be conducting the briefing from the New York office via video conference."

Silence met his remark and then the director nodded and stood indicating the meeting was over. Everyone stood and filed out of the room except Victor who was slowly gathering his files.

"Victor, a word, please." The director stood at the door having closed it behind the other men and women after they exited the room.

Victor sat back down.

The director walked back over and took a seat next to him swiveling the chair so that he faced Victor directly.

"It would be best if you were personally in the Homeland Security briefing tomorrow rather than via videoconference."

"I know but I will be just as effective from New York as if I was in the room, the sound and audio are clear, my assistant has all the briefing materials available plus extras for tomorrow."

"I'm not comfortable having you splitting your time between the offices; you're needed here."

"And my son needs me there as well." Victor felt his anger rising and fought to hold it in check, why didn't they understand?

"Perhaps you should bring Martin down here so you can keep an eye on him and then you won't have to leave."

"No. His doctors are in New York City and he needs to be in his home around his friends and familiar things not transplanted somewhere. It was only two months ago that this happened and I just need some more time. It's not as if the work isn't getting done and not as if you don't have access to me 24 hours a day."

The director softened slightly. "No, you're right, the work is getting done and I do have access to you. All right, when are you leaving for the city?"

"I'm catching the 6:00 p.m. shuttle that will get me to New York about 7:00 p.m., and I'll be at Martin's shortly after."

With that the director stood up. "Fine. Just wanted to make sure you were all right. This really shook you up. I've never seen you put anything ahead of work before." Shaking Victor's hand the director exited the room leaving Victor alone with his briefcase and extra files.

Suddenly a chill swept through his body that nearly caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end, "_I've never seen you put anything ahead of work before_."

Maybe I should have put something ahead of work before. Maybe I should have put my son ahead of work before.

Thirty minutes later in his office Victor asked Margaret, his assistant, to hold his calls and quickly dialed a number that had, in recent weeks, been committed to memory; it was answered on the second ring.

"Agent Spade"

"Hi, can I come in?" Sam asked taking in the vision of Martin standing, actually standing in front of her, well, standing with the help of his cane.

"Sure." Martin moved slowly back from the door allowing Sam to enter.

Turning around she watched as he closed the door and then slowly and painfully moved back into the room.

"Do you want something to drink?" Martin asked, ever the host.

"Um, sure why don't I get us both some water, okay?" Sam made the trip to the kitchen and back again in record time and noted the almost wistful expression Martin gave her.

Settling one glass within easy reach of his hand she sat in a chair next to the couch.

"I heard you were at the office today, sorry I missed you."

"Yeah, it's been a very busy day. I had a meeting with Lisa and another with Jack. Then back here for a quick two hour nap and I got up in time to take a shower and now you're here."

Sam opted to skip over Martin's frustrated recitation of his 'busy' day; she understood his frustration.

"Good, you're getting closer to returning." Sam kept her voice artificially cheery but took note of the irritated glance Martin sent her way.

"Yeah, it's probably going to be at least another month, maybe more." Martin replied listlessly.

Sam looked around noting the pillows and blankets heaped on the couch, the coffee table moved close with several bottles of meds and a notepad, probably dosing instructions, the TV remote, a book, some magazines, his cell phone, all the amenities. Sipping her water she found herself staring at him as he stared dully at…nothing.

"I wish I could make this easier for you. In a way I do know what you're going through, remember?"

Sam hoped Martin wouldn't bite her head off for the comment but she really did understand much of what he was feeling and thinking and he could open up to her if he only would. Why wouldn't he?

Martin looked at Sam and noted her nonjudgmental almost hopeful expression as if she was willing him to confide in her. Amazing what a couple tiny pieces of lead could do to a relationship, Sam who never wanted to talk about what was going on inside of her was now probing him to open up and Martin who had always hoped for deeper more meaningful conversations now just wanted to keep things on the surface.

"I appreciate you guys taking care of the stuff on my desk." Martin said, changing the topic.

Sam gave a small defeated smile. Damn. "Yeah well, sorry we couldn't find homes for everything but once you get back you'll set it up the way you want. Your dad called, seems he's coming up here in a few hours and staying in the city for a couple of days. So you two are doing all right or do you need me to run interference?"

"No, we're doing all right. You two seem awful chummy though." Martin showed a small amount of interest in this topic Sam was relieved to see.

"Yeah, well, we have a common interest." She said softly noting Martin closing his eyes as he lay back on the couch. She sat quietly thinking back to that night eight weeks ago when she'd finally gotten the courage to go to the hospital.

_Sam had lost track of how long she'd been sitting in the darkened room holding Martin's hand that felt cold and limp in hers. She'd kept rubbing at it hoping to put some warmth back into it, hoping he'd feel her presence and squeeze her hand tell her he was all right. She heard the soft clearing of someone's throat and turned to see Assistant Deputy Director Victor Fitzgerald standing there. _

"_Director Fitzgerald, I—I should get going--" Sam started to rise although she was reluctant to let go of Martin's hand. Victor waved his hand calmly at her._

"_Don't get up, Agent Spade. You're fine. Martin needs his friends as well as his family with him right now. Please, stay as long as you want." He slowly walked into the room fixing his eyes on his son's face, what he could see of it that wasn't obscured by the breathing tube and equipment. Standing on the other side of the bed, his coat folded over his arm he stared down at his son as if looking at him for the first time. _

_Sam resumed her position feeling her body relax as she did. She didn't want to leave and would have been heartsick if she had. As a minute passed and she watched Victor continuing to stand and stare at his son in fear and wonderment she realized she was intruding on his private emotions and dropped her eyes back to Martin and wondered why she'd ever been afraid to have anyone know about them._

_The sound of a chair being drug across the room pulled Sam from her musings. Her eyes flicked briefly to the man now sitting across from her, chair pulled close to his son's side. Victor's hand lay resting on Martin's arm, the simple touch seeming to bring him as much comfort as it did her. Time lost meaning as she and Victor spent the rest of the night in silent vigil bound by the fact that they had trouble showing love outwardly but both in their own way loving the man that lay unconscious between them._

Martin's small moan of discomfort brought her out of her memories and despite her desire to help she sat and watched, allowing him to find a comfortable spot on the couch. She glanced across the room at the clock above his desk and noted that Victor was still a couple of hours away. Her culinary skills weren't much to brag about but lately Martin's desire to eat didn't require much, so she decided to brave the kitchen and see if she could get him to eat something. Standing up she noted he'd found a comfortable position and lay back with his eyes closed. She stepped close to him and gently brushed her hand across his forehead and whispered…

"I'm going to get you something to eat, and then I'll let you rest for when your father gets here. Do you need me to make up the guest room?"

"No, Dad made sure it was ready last time he was here." Martin sleepily responded.

"Okay."

"Sam."

"Yeah."

"I'm not hungry."

"How about a little soup and some tapioca pudding, do you think you can try that?"

"Just a little, I'm not hungry."

"Okay." Sam stood up and walked to the kitchen door stopping to look back as Martin lay on the couch, his arm protectively covering his torso. She didn't like what she saw, he was thin, pale, and dressed way too warm for this time of year. Stepping back to his side she gently covered him with the light blanket that had fallen to the floor before returning to the kitchen to heat up some soup.

**Later that evening at the office**:

Jack stayed at the office until well after 9:00 p.m. Being down two agents for the past several weeks had taken its toll on everyone and now, even though Vivian had returned, Jack was still far behind in his work. Finally he removed his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. He couldn't do anymore tonight.

Sam had left around 4:00 having indicated she was going to check on Martin and would be following up at her apartment later on in regard to their current missing person.

Danny had left around 6:00 indicating he was off to conduct a brief with the NYC police department that was also assigned to the case.

Vivian had left around 6:30, seeming intent to prove she was up to full duty and to rub his face in it that he'd better recognize it soon. She'd made a point to stop by and bring something else to his attention, something he was already well aware of.

"_Good night, Jack." Vivian was standing in his doorway holding the glass door open._

"_Good night, Vivian. You don't have to pull these long hours so soon, you know."_

"_It's not so long when I'm just answering emails, fielding phone calls and working with tech. I could and can do more." Vivian's rich voice contained a mild rebuke._

_Jack swallowed and hesitated – he just wasn't ready._

"_I know." He replied softly._

"_Okay." _

"_That's it? Okay?" _

_Vivian smiled. "Yeah, okay. We're going to be fine, Jack. It's going to take time, you, me, Danny, Sam and Martin; we're all going to be fine."_

"_Sure. Any idea when?"_

"_No. I just know that I'm not going to stand for it being any other way; and you'd better not either."_

"_How does Danny seem to you?"_

"_He's got something he's holding back, I don't know what it is. Has he indicated to you when he's seen Martin?"_

"_No, not sure he's been seeing Martin." Jack said on reflex remembering again Martin's comment from earlier in the day._

"_Yeah, I don't think he's been seeing him either. Might mention that to Lisa, don't you think?"_

_Jack nodded and rubbed his hands over his eyes. "Yeah."_

"_Yeah, well, good night, Jack. Don't stay too late."_

His eyes dropped to the preliminary analysis from Dr. Harris on Martin. She didn't go into details but she was required to give a baseline analysis and he'd receive progress reports along the way. In the end it would be Dr. Harris who cleared Martin for full-duty once he was physically capable.

Reading the summary for the fourth time Jack had trouble reconciling the words "_needs to rebuild self-confidence"_ with the Martin Fitzgerald he'd worked with for the last three years. His eyes wandered from the report to his computer monitor and almost without awareness he moved the mouse and brought up a file. Clicking the play button he watched the black and white, slightly grainy images display across his screen.

The traffic camera had caught most of the attack on Martin and Danny. Jack was both repulsed by the images and drawn to them, his need to stop it from happening, even eight weeks after the fact, was something he had yet to come to grips with.

He watched the white sedan stop, the blue van pull in front of it and the bursts of light from automatic guns.

He watched the sudden acceleration of the white sedan, watched it smash into the van pushing it slightly out of the image frame.

He watched the white sedan abruptly reverse and saw the bursts of light as the automatic gunfire rained on the car.

He watched the white sedan spin wildly and smash broadside into another car.

It was surreal watching these images, there was no sound except the sounds conjured in Jack's mind. He 'heard' the gunfire, the smashing of metal on metal, the screech of tires on pavement.

He watched as one of the sedan's doors opened.

He watched Adisa Teno fall out of the car and then kneel straight and defiant.

He watched Dornvald walk back into the camera frame. He watched the bursts of light indicative of the automatic weapon and saw Adisa's body jerk violently from the bullets' impact and spin to the ground.

He watched as Dornvald shifted position suddenly and more bursts of light lit up the screen.

He watched as Danny appeared at the rear of the vehicle and fired on Dornvald.

He watched Dornvald disappear from view and Danny continue to fire.

Then there was nothing as Danny disappeared from view and Jack filled in the blanks with what he knew had happened: Dornvald had fled the scene; Danny had continued to fire until the van disappeared; Danny had run back to the front of the car and that's when he found Martin.

Jack couldn't see what happened between his two agents in the car, he counted the seconds away: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen—thirteen seconds and Danny appeared running around the rear of the vehicle slipping and sliding in his haste to reach the driver's door.

Jack knew Danny has already called for backup before he tried to get Martin out of the car. He knew Danny had already called in the description and the license plate of the van. He, himself, had already received Danny's frantic call about the attack.

He watched in fascinated horror at the images the camera had managed to capture: Danny ripping the door open; Martin limp in Danny's arms being eased to the wet pavement; Danny pressing down on Martin's torso, glancing wildly around him. Jack could tell from Danny's posture he was talking to Martin.

Jack reached forward and clicked pause freezing the image of his two agents, one bleeding and unconscious, the other desperately trying to stop the blood and pleading with his partner to hang on. In that moment Jack realized that his two agents were still locked in that moment in time, Martin was still injured although he was struggling to refute that; Danny was still trying to control the situation even though inside he's screaming that nothing is right.

Jack rubbed his hands over his eyes wondering how and if he was going to rebuild his team.

TBC…

9


	4. Chapter 4

"Martin's wounds had glass in them

**Chapter 4**:

"Martin's wounds had glass in them."

"I don't follow." Lisa Harris said as she stared evenly at Danny..

"The bullets came through the glass." Danny said almost impatiently.

"Okay."

"Don't you see?"

"Danny, there were bullet holes in the windshield, and riddled across the body of the car, of course there would be glass."

"No, that's not what I mean." Danny paused and then launched into his explanation.

"The bullets came through the driver's side window." There, he'd said it.

Dr. Lisa Harris sat quietly; some patients responded well when queried, they wouldn't offer the information but ask the question and they'll answer, other patients, patient like Danny, would tell you when they were ready, push them and they retreat.

Lisa had been working with Danny for the past few weeks and while they had covered a fair bit of territory and made some progress, there was a lot of ground yet uncovered, and a lot of hidden pain.

Danny, like so many agents, liked to be in control and liked to show only confidence. His defense when confused or hurt, humor; he used not only to amuse others and himself but to deflect.

It had taken a lot of work but Lisa had managed to reach beyond the humor and was only now beginning to coax to the surface some of the raw pain and guilt buried beneath. Today's session lacked much of what had filled the previous ones, humor, deflection; today they were working.

"Martin got shot because of me. Because Dornvald was firing back at me and I was – I was using the car as cover." Danny's voice dropped so low that Dr. Harris had to resist the urge to lean forward to ensure she heard him correctly.

After waiting a moment she decided to parrot the question back to him to make sure she'd heard it, as well as to get him to continue his thought.

"You said you were using the car as cover?"

"That's right. I heard the gunfire when Dornvald killed Adiso Teno. I bolted from the car, got to the rear of the car and fired on Dornvald."

"Why did you go to the rear of the car, why not to the front?" Lisa was leaned back in a relaxed posture in her chair, her notebook and pen at the ready and she subtly made noted but the recorder in the room did the real job and she'd get the session transcribed later; her movements were minimal so as not to distract or threaten or in any way intrude upon the patient's thoughts or space.

"If I went to the front of the car and fired on Dornvald I'd put Martin in his line of fire since Dornvald was slightly behind him and to the side."

"Then what happened?" Lisa jotted another quick note.

"I fired at Dornvold, missed, he dove for cover, the driver of the van appeared and fired at me, I fired back, hit him and he went down, Dornvald appeared, fired, I fired back, my gun jammed, I ducked down, cleared the jam, Dornvald fired again and then he was gone."

"So you picked the only position available to fire at your attacker and keep your partner out of the line of fire?"

"Yes, and got him shot."

"Why do you say that?"

"Don't you get it?" Danny said in increasing frustration. "When Dornvald was running for the van and firing back at me, Martin was in his line of fire and that's when he got hit."

"Do you know for certain that's when Martin was hit?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense."

"Why?"

"Because—because—"

"Because Martin was shot twice while all you got was a cut to the head and a bruise?"

Danny glared in anger at her but Lisa calmly held his gaze without judgment in her eyes, at last shocked and defeated, Danny slumped back against the back of the chair.

"Yeah."

"Danny, do you think Martin wishes it was you that had gotten shot?"

No."

"Then why do you wish it had been you that had been shot?"

"It would be easier to deal with." Danny admitted not meeting her gaze.

"For whom?"

Danny opened his mouth several times before finally allowing the words to quietly escape.

"For me." And that admission made him more confused.

"Do you think that that would make it harder for Martin?

Danny lifted his head up, confusion clearly evident in his eyes, "No—wait—I mean, that's not what I—I don't know. No, I think it would be easier for him too."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because that way he wouldn't have to carry the burden he's carrying."

"That's right. He'd be carrying yours instead." Bingo, she nailed him and she knew it.

Danny slumped back into the chair seemingly defeated by the circles they were talking in.

"You don't know that."

"Oh, so you think Martin wouldn't have any guilt if it was you that had been shot?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying, I'm saying he probably would have moved to the front of the car when Dornvald started to run and would have kept the line of fire away from the driver's seat."

"Is that what you think?"

When Danny didn't answer but began to retreat into himself Lisa decided on a different tactic.

"So, you're saying that if you had been driving and Martin had been the passenger and hit his head and briefly lost awareness that, when the gunshots that killed of Adisa Teno happened, he would have bolted from the car, drawing the shooter out of the driver's seat line of fire, fired on the shooters, killed the driver of the van, and then in the space of – what 7 – 10 seconds at most would have been able to clear the jammed gun, and then also recognized that strategically it was best to get to the front of the car since the one remaining shooter of the three that have made themselves known would now be in a position to return fire on you thus putting the driver's position in the line of fire?"

"Yes." The word was so softly spoken Lisa barely heard it, but it was spoken.

"Danny, did you exit the car and go to the rear of the vehicle to keep Martin out of the shooter's line of fire or did you go to the rear of the vehicle because it was the fastest position you could take rather than exiting the car and swinging wide around the open passenger door and going to the front?"

Danny just looked at her in shock, his mouth opened and closed twice before he looked away and Lisa knew she had him.

"Danny –"

"I should never have gotten out of the car. I should have just let Dornvald kill Teno, hell he already had by then, and should have just played possum then we wouldn't be here."

"You're right, we wouldn't."

Danny glared at her and Lisa bit back a smile, good, anger is better than defeat.

"You'd be buried in the ground and so would Martin. Two new agents would be fumbling their way around learning the ways of the MPU and we'd have hung yours and Martin's pictures on the wall with the other agents killed in the line of duty."

"You don't know that. There's no possible way to know--"

"Agent Taylor, I may do my work in the office and not carry a gun but I am an agent and a doctor with the FBI and I understand the profile of a crime scene—yes, a crime scene. Do you really believe that Emil Dornvald took on two FBI agents transporting a prisoner with no SWAT escort, no back up of any kind, brought two heavily armed gunmen in addition to himself, with hundreds of bullets at the ready through automatic guns with the intent of only killing Adisa Teno? That once that act was done he would calmly climb back into the van and quietly drive away?

If you really believe that then you are a poor agent. Dornvald came after you and Martin knowing full well the two of you were alone and he was armed with enough firepower to kill the three of you over a hundred times. He had no intention of just putting one bullet into Adisa's head and leaving the scene, if he did he would have driven your car off the road, held you two at gunpoint and killed Teno and then left. No, he ambushed you at a light, in a quiet area, late at night no back up anywhere around.

He blinded you both with gunfire and took you off guard; you were lucky his first salvo didn't kill you both or injure you. Danny, if you had stayed still in that car, you'd be dead. Dornvald would have killed Teno; he would have shot Martin to death and then you. Tell me I'm wrong."

Danny was silent as he listened to Lisa's words. The words evoked images that haunted him in the middle of the night, during the day, images that no longer how long he lived he knew he'd never be free of. He saw the doors of the blue van swing open, the flashes of light as the automatics fired; the smell of burning rubber filled his mind as did the smell of gunpowder. He hated all of it; mostly he hated the sound of the panic that he heard in his own voice shouting to Martin, "Back up! Back up! Easy! Easy!"

More than that, Danny hated what Lisa was saying because he knew deep down inside; Lisa was right. There wasn't anything that he could have done; what he had done was all he could have done and it just wasn't enough.

"Doesn't make it better."

"I want you to do something for me before our next session, deal?"

Danny nodded his head.

"I want you to take a sheet of paper and, as cliché as it may be, as cornball as it may sound, I want you to make a list of all the reasons you wish it had been you that was shot and not Martin."

She had Danny's attention fully and she held his gaze a moment before dropping the other shoe.

"And, I want you to take a second sheet of paper and I want you to make a list of all the reasons you don't want Martin to be the one who made the choices you made and to be carrying the burden you're now carrying."

With that Lisa stood up, signaling the end to the session, "I expect you to bring both lists to our next appointment, deal?" She held out her hand for him to shake.

"What do I get out of the deal?" Danny asked not yet taking her hand.

"An hour of my time." Lisa responded smiling.

Danny cracked a slight smile and reached for Lisa's hand. "Deal."

It was Saturday. Danny stood outside Martin's apartment unable to bring himself to knock on the door. Why hadn't he called first? What if Martin was asleep, or had company, or didn't want to see him. Suddenly he heard the click as the locks in front of him turned and the door opened to reveal Martin standing there in front of him.

"You going to stand out there all day?" Martin asked looking pale and thin but a little better than the last time Danny had seen him, well, sort of seen him, actually hid from him. Martin's eyes were dull but there was a ghost of a smile on his face.

"I—I—" Danny stopped as he realized he was stammering. Without trying to finish his explanation he stepped into Martin's apartment as Martin stepped back, still moving with the aid of the cane but definitely looking a bit steadier on his feet.

"I heard footsteps stop at my door almost two minutes ago. I decided to check out who was there. Why didn't you just knock?"

"I didn't want to wake you." Danny managed to choke out. He didn't look at Martin but he heard Martin close the door and click the locks again. Turning Danny watched as Martin slowly but surely moved to the couch where he had obviously been relaxing and reading. Danny wandered around a bit before settling awkwardly in a chair.

"Listen, man, I—I know I haven't been around much, I—"

"It's okay. I've been pretty out of it anyway. Plus, I know that you guys are still down an agent and that Viv only got back a couple of weeks ago so--"

"So, we're good?" Danny didn't care that there was almost a pleading sound in his voice.

"Yeah, man, we're good, no worries." Martin shifted slightly on the couch his face pinching as still healing tissue pulled.

"Good. So, how's the physical therapy?" Danny groaned inwardly, did he really just ask that question?

"It's fine, at least I get out of here three times a week."

"Good." Danny just nodded feeling like an idiot. Why had he come here in the first place? He used to be able to joke with Martin about most anything, hell, he'd had the man's blood all over him, why was this so hard?

Gulping back the nausea that threatened Danny desperately sought something to say, anything to break the tension and his mind latched onto the one thing that he did not want to talk about. "How have your sessions been with Lisa?" Dammit, Taylor!

Martin for his part didn't seem aware of Danny's inward struggle so caught up in his own morass of thoughts and emotions. Hearing the question he just halfheartedly snorted and then replied, "I'm supposed to discuss my feelings in therapy with Dr. Harris and I don't have the slightest feelings about 'the incident' because when I try to think of it everything is just blank.

The shooting, the whole—'incident' as everyone keeps referring to it. I don't remember anything about it."

Danny snorted, incident, yeah, it was an incident all right. One big frigged up incident.

"Yeah, well, consider yourself lucky." Oh, man, did he really just say that out loud? Danny thought.

Martin looked at him for a moment and then turned away, "I don't know, Danny, is it lucky? I mean one minute you're—you're—I don't know how to explain it, you're 'nothing' and then all of a sudden there's 'something."

Martin stopped but then plunged forward, he was tired and he hurt despite the pain medication and he just didn't care anymore if he was sharing too much or not enough. Everything seemed to have changed and he just wanted 'normal' back or whatever it didn't really matter.

Martin looked at Danny but really didn't see him he was off in his mind piecing together flashes of memories or images as he resumed speaking. "There's people there, sometimes you know them sometimes you don't they keep saying things like "you're going to be fine and all you can do is wonder, what are they talking about—and then things are blurry and you don't really feel like yourself, you're all fuzzy and numb—and then different people are there and they're saying stuff like it's okay. You're going to be fine, or you're doing great and you are so confused as to why they're there and were they the ones who just said those same words a minute ago—at least you think it was a minute ago—then things blur some more.

After a while things clear a bit and you realize who is in the room with you now; your father, mother, Sam, sometimes Jack, there's nurses and a doctor. It seems you open your eyes and look at someone, then you blink and someone else is there only that blink is really hours, sometimes a day or even more and—and it's all so unreal.

Finally people start telling you what happened and you listen to them relating the 'incident' without once feeling like it has anything to do with you because—it couldn't possibly have happened since there is nothing, you search your memory for it and it's just blank, empty, nothing.

Then the doctor comes and checks your incisions and you realize what he's doing hurts. You look down at what he's doing and you see stitches, and tubing and red lines where the skin is irritated and—and you realize that what people have been telling you has happened actually happened.

It's like everybody knows all the details about this profound event that happened in your life and the crazy thing is you don't remember it at all, all you have are the versions that other people tell you.

But then again, Danny, maybe I am the lucky one. I don't remember it but looking at you. I can tell that you do and, man, you look like crap. So maybe you're right, maybe I'm lucky 'cause I don't remember, maybe you knowing what happened makes you the unlucky one."

Danny sat there barely able to breathe as he let Martin's words roll over him and echo in his mind. How could it be lucky to have these memories, he wondered and just as quickly wondered that he'd rather have these memories than Martin's pain – or would he?

For several minutes the two men sat in silence both wrapped up in their thoughts, thoughts of their own pain, physical, emotional, mental, and the burdens that the other was likely carrying. As the clock on the wall silently clicked away the time there was silence in the apartment but there was less tension in the silence than at the beginning of Danny's visit as each seemed to absorb some of the emotional unrest of the other.

Not even aware he was speaking Danny whispered softly but Martin still heard, "I don't know, Martin, I – just – don't – know who's lucky in this."

TBC…..


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Chapter 5:

Martin shifted a bit in his chair. He was back for another session with Lisa, his third or fourth now, they were blurring a bit and he still liked them as much as he liked physical therapy which meant not at all.

He still wasn't sure what these sessions were supposed to accomplish. Was he supposed to remember the shooting? He'd read the reports of the shooting but all that did was provide a description, it didn't trigger any actual memories. Martin still had a blank spot. He remembered being on the sidewalk with Sam outside the Makeban Consulate, remembered Paige Hopkins shooting General Gamba. There were vague snatches of getting into an elevator with Danny and then being in a car.

The next sort of clear memory for him was waking up in the hospital and seeing his dad sleeping in a chair next to his bed. The memory of seeing his father sleeping in the chair next to his bed was something that even now, several weeks after the event, still puzzled Martin maybe puzzled was the wrong word, surprised, shocked, gratified, he really didn't know.

He knew his father loved him even if he wasn't demonstrative about it but that day when he saw his father looking so – so unlike Assistant Deputy Director Victor Fitzgerald and more like some of the fathers he'd dealt with over the years who are afraid they've lost something precious…Martin started looking at his father a little differently. He was both uncomfortable with the change and welcomed it, odd.

What he was still not comfortable with and didn't think he ever would be were these sessions. So now here he sat with Lisa across from him holding her pen and notepad, recorder on the table, and he wondered for the umpteenth time just what he was supposed to get out of these sessions?

"What do you want out of them?"

"What?" Martin asked as he realized Lisa had directed that question at him, of course she had, they were the only two in the room.

"You said you were wondering what you were supposed to get out of these sessions."

Martin closed his eyes and sighed, damn, he had said that out loud.

"Martin, what do you want out of these sessions?" Lisa calmly asked a second time.

Martin wracked his brain trying to come up with the right answer, hell at this point he'd take any answer.

"I have no idea." He finally conceded defeat.

Lisa simply looked at him her expression neutral, without judgment.

Martin shook his head in frustration. He liked Lisa. Lisa did her job because she wanted to and she really did want to help people. So, for Lisa, he tried again to sift through what was in his head, what did he want out of these sessions? How about a relief from the pain, the fear, the nightmares, the anxiety that he'd never be up to doing his job again, whenever it was he was allowed to return to work. What had it been already, nine weeks or ten that he'd been out of work, did he even know how to get back?

"Martin, you're doing fine." Lisa tried again. She could see he was struggling with what to say. She knew him well enough by now to know that he had ideas of what he wanted to say but that he was doing one of two things inside his head, and probably both. He was either trying to pick the 'right' answer or he was trying to pick the answer that would least cause her to probe any further.

"The first thing you need to remember, Martin, is that there is no 'right' or 'wrong' answer here. Second thing to remember is that whatever you say I'm going to probe into." She grinned at him and cocked her eyebrows and was rewarded with a knowing smirk in return, yep, she had him pegged but that was her job.

"So, don't think about it, tell me, what do you want to accomplish in these sessions?"

"To feel normal again."

"What's normal?"

"Sleeping through the night." That was out before Martin even thought to stop it, darn her, she was good. Oddly enough he didn't mind telling her.

"What wakes you up in the night?"

Pain. Fear. Nightmares. Pick one. Martin thought.

"It hurts." That seems innocuous enough and credible.

"What hurts?"

"Everything."

Lisa studied him and Martin found himself working not to squirm, he thought pain was the safe response.

"You're still on pain meds, right?"

"Yes."

"Do you take them as prescribed?"

"Usually."

Lisa cocked her eyebrows at him and inclined her head as if to say, 'only usually?'

Martin felt compelled to answer the unspoken question. "They make me feel fuzzy, a bit nauseas at times."

"Did you tell your doctor?"

Martin nodded. "Yeah, he carefully switched me to something different, something a little milder but since I'm getting better, I don't need stuff as strong anymore."

"Good, so it's probably not the physical pain that's waking you up at night I'm guessing."

Martin grinned again despite himself, yeah she was good and if he was honest with himself, he liked talking to her. "No, it's not physical pain that wakes me up, at least not all the time."

"So what is it? Fear, nightmares, thinking that you'll never feel good again, wondering if and when you'll get back to work what it will be like, what will it be like to drive a car again, walk up a flight of stairs without feeling tired, take down a suspect?"

"What are you, Lisa, psychic? I didn't think the FBI kept psychics on the payroll." Martin joked somewhat relieved that Lisa had spoken of all the things that worried him, maybe he wasn't going crazy after all.

"No, I'm not psychic, Martin. I'm good at my job and the thoughts and fears and anxieties you're having are completely normal, natural. I'd be a bit worried about you if you weren't having them. So, let's go from there."

After his session with Lisa was over, Martin slowly headed down the hall towards Jack's office. He had told Jack he'd be in today for another appointment and Jack had suggested he stop by when he was done if he felt up to it. Martin decided he had a bit of energy left so he walked towards Jack's office. He wasn't using the cane today, actually it was his first day without it and he planned to go the whole day without it if he could, shouldn't be too hard his next stop after this was home.

Martin was only a few feet from Jack's office when the door opened and Paula VanDoren stepped out. She didn't see Martin as she was turned inward still talking to Jack.

"I'm just saying you should give it some serious thought. Your team has been down from its full complement for over four months now with Agent Johnson's illness and now Agent Fitzgerald, adding another agent is a good idea, think about it."

With that VanDoren exited Jack's office and thankfully, thought Martin, headed down the hall away from him never once looking back. Martin sighed both relieved to have avoided the confrontation but also at the stab of fear, more like panic, that hit him at the thought of a new agent joining the team. Another thought quickly followed on the heels of that one, maybe a new agent was the best thing for the team, maybe people already knew that he'd never be able to make it back to full status and just didn't want to tell him, maybe Lisa knew.

Just then Jack's door opened a second time and Jack stepped out and looked directly at Martin. Both men stared at each other and at that moment both knew that the other knew.

Not surprising. Martin thought.

Damn her timing. Jack thought.

"Martin, come on in." Jack stepped back, allowed a small smile on his face and followed Martin's slow but steady progress into his office.

This time both men sat in the chairs in front of Jack's desk, Jack hoped the informality would defuse some of the tension, it didn't.

"Don't worry about VanDoren, have you ever known her to spend extra money, especially the kind of money that bringing in another permanent field agent would mean? Don't worry about it. She was just trying to let me know she'd do whatever necessary to help out the team if we were feeling the strain but we're not, things are fine."

Martin just nodded as he found his voice; his throat was suddenly very dry. "Yeah, I know, none of us minded some extra hours when Viv was out." Martin wondered if that sounded churlish. He didn't mean it to, he hadn't minded some extra hours while Viv was sick.

Jack eyed Martin and wondered how the man was really feeling, emotionally. Quickly Jack moved on, emotions weren't something he was good with and that's why Lisa was on the job. It wasn't that he didn't care; he did. He just knew that there was no way he wanted Martin to actually tell him how he was feeling anymore than he figured Martin wanted him to ask.

"Well, it'll all be a moot point soon anyway, Martin. Isn't your physical evaluation next week?"

"Yeah, next week is when I get a full workup and status check. Physical therapy is going pretty well, I'm not using my cane anymore --and you can bet I won't now that I know VanDoren is thinking of replacing me or adding someone, whatever-- so I figure another two weeks and I'll be back on the job."

"Great. The team is doing fine, so like I said, don't worry anything about it. VanDoren was just testing me to see if I needed anything and I don't and the team doesn't need anything other than everyone back together and that's gonna be soon enough."

Jack stood and held out his hand; Martin rose and took it exchanging the gesture. A minute later he was down the hall and heading back home, the bullpen was empty the rest of the team out on assignment.

As he leaned against the wall of the elevator Martin tried not to let panic overwhelm him. Jack was sincere, he wasn't looking to add another agent and truth was Martin was feeling stronger. Three weeks ago he had done this and even with the aid of a cane had barely made it back down to the lobby and into the cab for the ride home without shaking like a leaf. Now he was walking on his own two legs, slowly true but he was making his way, and when he got home he sure wasn't going to be falling into bed or napping on the couch, no way. He had until next week to prove to those doctors that he was ready to come back to work on schedule if not sooner and he wasn't going to blow it.

Jack watched as Martin left his office and made his way down the corridor. The man still looked thin and pale but there was a bit more strength to him this time, at least now it looked like it would take a stiff wind to knock the man over whereas last time he'd been here a light breeze would have done it.

Jack sighed, something he'd been doing for quite awhile now and hadn't even realized it. Returning to his desk he retook his seat and stared at the half dozen or so employee dossiers on his desk, damn Van Doren and her 'great idea.'

Jack let his mind wander over the few minutes he'd spent with Martin. It hadn't seemed as awkward as before did it? Jack shook his head dammit, damn Dornvald and Teno and damn Paige Hopkins as well. It was hard enough once he knew Sam and Martin were dating and then when they broke up well, it hadn't been that bad; Martin was a damn fine agent and Jack liked working with him but now, now it was such a mess.

Danny was still a loose cannon, Vivian was more pissed off than ever despite the fact that Jack had finally, begrudgingly allowed her out into the field, Sam – well Sam acted…Jack didn't know what to think. He still had that video on his computer of the shooting and while he was able to keep that turned off more times than not, he still couldn't turn off the tape in his head, the one that played over and over and showed him images of Martin lying on the pavement soaked in blood, Danny kneeling over him similarly covered with Martin's blood.

The image would shift and Jack was in the hospital, in the ICU and he heard the beeping of the machines, smelled the antiseptic, saw and felt the tension, worry and sorrow and came upon a scene that he'd never thought he'd see…

_Jack stopped just outside the ICU room and let his eyes adjust to the semi-darkness within. As his eyes adjusted he saw Martin, motionless, pale, unconscious lying in the bed. While he'd been taken off the ventilator there were still too many wires and tubes running in and out of his agent and snaking under the blanket. _

_A slight movement in the room drew Jack's attention and he realized Martin wasn't alone in the room. Next to Martin's bedside sat Victor Fitzgerald motionless, one hand resting on Martin's forearm as if anchoring his son or perhaps reassuring himself that his son was still there, Jack wasn't certain._

_In that moment Jack saw Victor, the man behind the deputy director demeanor He saw a father, exhausted from lack of sleep and no end of worry, he saw a man nearly broken at the thought that his son, his one and only child could be ripped away from him. In that moment Jack saw the man, a father and in that moment he identified with him._

"_Come in, Jack." The softly whispered words reached his ears Victor never taking his eyes off his son._

_Jack stepped inside, found another chair near the wall and carefully set it near Martin's bed across from his father._

"_How is he doing?" Jack whispered knowing full well from the nurse that Martin was heavily sedated and would not even know anyone was there. The semi-dark room, the machinery, the constant beeping of the heart monitor, the atmosphere of fear and hope seemed to require one to whisper._

_Victor's mouth worked a bit and he swallowed before actual words came out, the whole time he never took his eyes of his son._

"_The doctor says he's doing as well as can be expected. They're keeping him sedated to allow him maximum time to adjust to the trauma and rest still..."_

"_Okay." Jack didn't know what else to say, there really wasn't anything else to say._

_A minute passed, then another with no sound between them but the steady beeping of the monitor._

"_You have kids, right Jack?"_

_Startled Jack responded automatically. "Yes, two girls."_

"_You ever just sit in their bedroom at night when they were little, I mean really little and just watch them and listen to them breathe?"_

_Jack nodded slowly remembering the times he'd done just that, before he'd allowed work and a cheap fling to ruin his marriage. "Yeah."_

"_I never did that. Not once. Not when he was a baby or when he was in his first bed, not even when he broke his arm falling from a tree and the doctor sent him home with a cast and some pain pills; he was barely eight. I never just sat there and watched him sleep, listened to him breathe. I never understood why people did that. They breathe, in and out just like you and me, why waste your time sitting there watching them do that?" _

_Jack studied Victor's profile and saw the man swallow hard several times as if something was lodged in his throat, if it was possible, Victor seemed to be wilting in front of him._

"_But now, having sat here and seen him hooked to a machine that did the breathing for him I – and now, now that he's breathing on his own I can't stop watching. It's incredible."_

Jack roused himself from his wandering thoughts as he heard noise from the bullpen, Danny and Sam had returned. Looking at them Jack wondered what it was going to take to get his team to breathe again normally.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

Chapter 6:

What the hell was Jack thinking?! He'd saved the kid, he'd done his job, yeah, the kid had tried to set the bomb off, but what the hell, Danny had to try and talk him down. Yeah, it was lucky and damn lucky that the wires weren't connected right but still that didn't give Jack cause to slam him against the car and then order him to sit in the car until he was ready to take him back to the office. It's not like he was some rookie.

Danny sulked and skulked in the passenger seat of Jack's car waiting for Jack almighty Jack to return and drive him back to the office. Jack really needed to give up his overprotective crap, Danny thought. First he'd kept Viv in the office for two full weeks past her 'return to full status' had been received, he'd been keeping Danny on a short leash since the shooting – hell, thought Danny, that was three months ago, and now with Martin returned to work just today it was time to mother him and leave me the hell alone, Danny groused.

Martin. The day had finally come, Martin returned to work. Danny wasn't sure how he felt. They'd talked several times now and Danny knew that most of the awkwardness was gone between them but still, seeing the guy return to work – it just, just – Danny didn't have words to express it. He wanted to hug the guy but that was stupid since he'd seen him like once a week for the past month so hugging him was dumb.

The great news and something Danny already knew was that Martin no longer used the cane, true, he still walked a bit slow but that had more to do with Martin conserving energy and trying not to pull still healing tissue and muscles, at least that was Danny's take on things.. Martin still looked a bit pale, was thin, there were still dark circles around his eyes and yeah, the guy still winced unexpectedly at an abrupt movement, Danny had seen that when he witnessed part of Martin's talk with the boy's mother but all in all, Martin was back, the team was finally back.

So what the hell was Jack's problem anyway?

The ride back to the office was silent. Danny didn't really want to talk to Jack and it was obvious that Jack didn't want to talk to him; the atmosphere in the car was thick with unresolved tension. Upon returning to the 12th floor Danny noticed Martin was already gone for the day, Vivian as well, Sam was still at the hospital with Ryan. Jack indicated with his head that Danny was to continue following him so the two men continued their silent journey until it ended at Jack's office.

"Sit down, Danny. I want to show you something." Jack's voice was steady but the undercurrent rippled with controlled emotion.

Danny sat down as directed but there was no trace of meekness in his manner, he was still hopped up angry at Jack's treatment of him.

Jack closed the door to his office, sat behind his desk and using his mouse brought something up on the computer. Then he swiveled the monitor so Danny could see it.

"I want you to watch this." Jack's voice was low but there was something in the way he spoke that Danny's took note of and despite his frustration with Jack, he looked intently at the monitor.

It took a couple of seconds for his brain to process the images he saw and then he felt his insides tighten and his body suddenly chilled as he realized what he was seeing. The images played without sound and the clarity wasn't crystal clear but he could easily make out the holes appearing in the metal of the white sedan and while his eyes took in the visual aspects of bullets striking the car his mind created the sounds and in an instant he was there; it was real.

He felt the fear rapidly overcome by adrenaline as training and survival took over. He felt the seatbelt grabbing at him as he dove for cover pushing Martin down as well, his stomach lurched as the car rapidly accelerated and then the impact with the back of the van, the sudden reversal flipped his gut again and he tasted the iron sensation in his mouth that was a product of adrenaline flooding ones system.

There was silence as he watched Adiso Teno's murder, his mind had no audio for that instant, then the sound came back on and he was firing his weapon, he never even remembered it jamming and his clearing of it since training made that all second nature to him. Then, even though there were no visual references on the computer monitor he saw as his mind filled in the audio and the video now he saw Martin, gasping for breath while red bloomed across his chest staring at him without comprehension. .

He smelled the coppery smell of blood, the fading odor of gunpowder washing away in the night air and then, as he watched himself on the screen ease his wounded partner to the street and press down trying to stop the blood that gushed and poured continuously he felt the sticky warmth of it on his hands and heard himself saying "Hang on, Martin, stay with me, man, don't close your eyes, come on, Martin, open your eyes, hang on – Somebody get an ambulance!"

A touch on his shoulder jolted him out of his daze and he gasped as he realized Jack was standing beside him and the computer screen was now blank. He swallowed a couple of times trying to catch his breath and he realized his throat was scratchy – had he shouted out loud?

Jack took the chair next to him, keeping his hand on his shoulder as if to keep him connected to the present. Danny felt dizzy and tasted a slight bitterness like bile in the back of his throat; he wanted to throw up. He felt Jack press a bottle of water in his hand and he took a sip washing away the bile taste in his mouth, the dizziness eased.

"You're not invincible, Danny. You're not. Stop acting like you are because you're not. Stop trying to make amends for not being the one who was shot. It happened it was random, it could just as easily have been you as it was Martin; it could have been both of you. Those images haunt me. Don't do something that will haunt me worse."

With that Jack got up and left his office leaving Danny sitting there alone.

It was 8:00 p.m. and Danny stood in front of Martin's door. This was the second time in about a month that he'd done this, arrived at Martin's only to stand without moving in front of the man's door. This time he only waited about a half a minute before knocking on the door. He waited, knocked again, and then heard a tired sounding, "Hold on." Before he heard footsteps approach and then a much closer but still tired sounding, "Who is it."

"Danny."

Two clicks as the locks disengaged and the door swung open. Martin took one look at Danny's ashen face and stepped back allowing him to enter. Danny went straight for the couch, sat down with his hands clenched in his lap and stared at nothing.

Martin eyed Danny silently then he closed the door, went into the kitchen, filled two glasses with water and then returned to the living room where he handed Danny one of the glasses then sat down in the chair next to the couch.

"Tough case to come back to, huh?" Danny began awkwardly as he fingered the glass of water and then took a gulp.

"Yeah, but it was good to be back. It's good to work out some of the cobwebs." Martin sighed inwardly. The day had been good, somewhat. They'd found the kid, a little worse for wear but hopefully he'd get the help he needed, at least that was Viv's take on things. He'd felt pretty good at being able to interview the mother and work on the canvas and sitting at the table with Viv and Sam working on the whole indie comic angle had turned up a solid lead so he'd certainly done his part; yeah, that felt good.

What didn't feel good was the fact that when he went to pick up lunch for him and Viv he'd barely been able to keep from getting sick just looking at the food. Turkey on white bread was simple enough but at best he was only able to eat half of the half of his sandwich. Fortunately for him Sam had been rushed all day and hadn't eaten so she happily ate the other half of his sandwich thinking him likely generous. Reality was he wouldn't have been able to stuff it down.

Even though he hadn't gotten to the office until 10 a.m. as Jack had indicated by the time 4 p.m. rolled around he was spent. He gutted it out though and kept at it until after 5:30 but when Viv suggested he pack it up; he'd been only too happy to comply. Not an auspicious beginning as far as he was concerned, at least Vivian hadn't appeared to notice and if she did, she kept it to herself.

Thank you, Viv. Martin thought as he took a small sip of water and then set the glass on the table next to him.

The two men sat silently for several minutes, each lost in their own private misery. Martin was tired, somewhat nervous about being up to the hours at the office and what it would mean if it showed he needed time to get back up to full speed; Danny was replaying the images over and over in his head that he'd seen on Jack's computer screen.

At length Danny broke the silence that oddly enough was comfortable between the two men as each seemed concerned only with their own thoughts and yet neither thought it odd the other was there.

"Lisa had me make two lists for homework."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Silence reigned for a moment, the sound of a clock quietly ticking the only audible sound. Martin eyed Danny warily, unsure where this was going but feeling perhaps for the first time, in a long time, that somebody actually needed him instead of him always needing someone else, to drive him around, pick up things for him, bring him something.

"The first list was a list of the reasons why I wished I had been shot and not you."

Martin started; Danny had his full and completely undivided attention forgetting entirely that he had been thinking of indulging in another pity party.

The second list was all the reasons I wouldn't want us to trade places and have you carrying the burden I'm carrying."

Martin continued to stare at Danny as he absorbed those words. Slowly Danny's eyes rose until they met Martin's.

"The first one was so easy, you know, I'd be in pain, you'd be fine. I'd be recovering and you wouldn't have to be. I'd have to deal with wondering if and when I'd feel good again and you wouldn't have to. You know, simple."

Martin nodded numbly Oh, Danny, if you only knew how not so simple all of that is.

"The second one – the second one was really hard, you know? Like how much I wouldn't wish this guilt on anyone. How awful it feels knowing that the space of 24 – 30 inches is all that separated us in that car and yet in that space so much happened. That knowing that I was spared all the pain, all the suffering, the physical, mental, emotional suffering and you weren't – I'd take it all if I could, the physical, emotional, mental suffering, all of it if it meant you didn't have to suffer anything at all but it doesn't work that way. I know it doesn't.

I know that, if I had been shot and you hadn't that everything I'm feeling now, you'd be feeling. It sucks, Martin, it really does and the truth is – I'm not saying it's worse than what you're going through, no, I'm not saying that at all, 'cause again, if I could go through what you're going through now as well as this and you not have to go through any of it I would, I would without a thought but I can't.

The truth is we can't trade places, no matter how much we want to. We can't trade places anymore than we can make that night three months ago disappear and have never happened. I just don't – I don't know – I just don't – I don't want to feel this way anymore. I'm out of control like nothing matters, nothing will hurt me but that's not true is it?"

He looked at Martin and after a beat Martin slowly shook his head from side to side.

"No, it isn't true. It could have just as easily been me that got shot, it could have been both of us and – and it could have been so much worse. I can't fix this, can I? I can't undo it? I have to live with this don't I? And you, you have to live with what you have to live with?" Danny nodded his head while asking the questions both accepting the reality of the situation at the same time as he questioned it.

"Yeah, Danny, I guess we both have to accept it. So, I guess the answer to the question of who is the luckier one is neither of us. It just is.

Lisa Harris stepped off the elevator on the 12th floor after 5:00 p.m. on Friday, the end of Martin's first week back at work, the end of the first week in a long time that the entire MPU team was once again back on the job. She wanted to see Jack and assess how he was doing now that his entire team was back on the job. When she passed the bullpen on the way to Jack's office she noted that Martin's desk was already cleared, the light was shut down as was the computer; she figured since it was already well after 5:00 p.m. he had gone home, good.

Danny and Sam and Vivian were still working their computers or phones or at the conference table. Lisa paused for a moment to study those three who were unaware of her presence. She paid particular attention to Danny. He'd called her on Wednesday and asked if she had a few moments to talk; surprised but pleased at his willingness to communicate with her on a day other than their scheduled appointment she'd made time for him.

"_Danny, come on in have a seat." Lisa stood up from her desk, crossed the room and took a chair near him. "What can I do for you?"_

_Danny was silent for a moment the slightly lost look on his face that almost as quickly was replaced by a thoughtful look making Lisa imagine the wheels in his mind turning quickly as thoughts were processed. Finally, after opening and closing his mouth slightly twice he appeared to have settled on what he came there to say, took a slow deep breath and began:_

"_There wasn't anything I could have done differently." With that said Danny seemed to relax completely, all earlier tension disappeared from his face and frame. _

_Lisa noted that the way the words were spoken and the look Danny gave her was one of certainty, not defensive, not questioning, not pleading for her to agree, but confident that what he said was, in fact, the truth._

"_I know that now. I saw it, I saw the tape. There wasn't anything more I could have done."_

_Lisa wasn't sure what "I saw the tape" meant so she decided to ask._

"_What tape did you see?"_

_Danny looked at her and while the light of confidence was in his eyes she could see that he was troubled and she heard it in his voice which was softer the next time he spoke._

"_Jack had a copy of the traffic camera video feed, it captured that night. I saw it all and for that moment I was there – I was back in the car and I remember, really remember every second but this time, when I remember it, it's like – like I wasn't a participant, you know? Like I was watching me but it wasn't me and while I remember the sounds and the smells and the flashes and the fear I also was watching what could have been a training tape. I found myself almost evaluating the images and evaluating my actions and I look back on it and I realize, there wasn't anything I could have done differently."_

"_So when did you come to this conclusion?" Lisa asked neutrally._

"_This past Monday night, Jack was pissed – sorry, Jack was mad, really mad told me I was screwing up in the field and he'd had enough so he brought me back and showed me the tape. I know we've talked about it and I know I've been working on it but I guess I was burying it instead of dealing with it and when I saw, really saw what happened – well, it took a little time to sink in but I know, not that is, I just know--" Danny stopped, while he didn't mind sharing things with Lisa who he had grown to trust over these past weeks, he wasn't going to share with her that he had told Martin about the two lists. _

_Lisa had never asked him to read her the lists or asked for him to give them to her, he'd shown up at the next appointment certain he was going to have to show them to her or share them or something but when she asked him if he had done it and he handed her the two envelopes she simply held them for a moment and then returned them, never even opened them. It was then that Danny had realized that while Lisa wanted him to be open with her about what was going on with him and what he was going through she wasn't going to force him to tell her everything as long as he worked on the process. _

_Looking back Danny realized that after that appointment he had been a bit more willing to work harder on his own recovery. _

_Lisa was glad to hear Danny express such progress in his outlook on the shooting, now she wanted to see Jack and find out about this tape…_

Coming back from her thoughts of two days ago Lisa noted Danny looking at her from the bullpen. She gave him a bare wave and then continued on to Jack's office. As she reached the glass doors she paused a moment to study the leader of the MPU team.

Jack was seated behind his desk reviewing files looking, to the untrained eye, as if he was concentrating on his work. Lisa's trained eye noticed a few things amiss. First of all one hand was being used to prop his head up, Jack never propped his head up; second, worry lines were etched deeply in his forehead; third, the hand that held the pen was nearly crushing it. .

Lightly knocking she waited for him to look up, acknowledge her and then wave her to come inside. Stepping inside she allowed the door to close softly behind her before moving to take a chair across from his desk.

"I came to see how Martin was doing but find myself instead needing to ask you how you're doing." Lisa may have said the words softly and with a slight smile curving on her lip but Jack recognized the intelligence behind that piercing gaze and knew she read him like a book.

"Martin is working the cobwebs out."

"Good. And how is Danny doing with the return of his partner?"

"Shouldn't you be asking Danny?"

Lisa nodded first, "Yes, however right now I'm asking you."

Jack removed the reading glasses and rubbed his eyes, damn headaches were beginning to really get on his nerves.

"Danny is fine."

"Hmm."

"Hmm, that's it, hmm?" Jack glared back but it didn't work; no matter his frustrations Lisa always seemed to be able to read him and he saw the light amusement in her eyes just behind the deeper more present concern.

"Well, I could always ask how you're doing." Lisa said with more than a touch of irony in her voice.

"Yes, you could." Jack leaned back allowing his head to turn and look out at the bullpen where the first thing he saw was Martin's empty desk, a sight that too often he'd been looking at despite the fact that the man had returned to work and had already completed a full week back on the job, desk duty, limited hours, but he was back.

"So, how much longer are you going to look at him and see him lying on the street covered in blood instead of standing in front of you getting back to work?"

Startled Jack abruptly refocused on Lisa's face. "What did you ask?"

"I said, how much longer are you going to –"

Jack cut Lisa's words off with the wave of a hand. "What makes you think I'm doing that?"

Lisa smiled inwardly as she got up from her chair and moved away from the desk to the table in the room, intentionally giving Jack some space.

"I know things Jack. I know tech cleaned up traffic camera images at your request and I know you, in all likelihood have been punishing yourself by watching those images, am I right?" Since Danny's impromptu appointment Lisa had checked a few things out: yes there was a tape, yes it had been cleaned up and yes, Malone had been given possession of it, after that.

Jack wanted to bluff, wanted to try to fake her out but just as Lisa was good at reading him, he was good at reading her; she knew.

"I've watched it."

Lisa nodded.

"Have you figured out how to change the ending?"

"No."

"Well, I'll ask again, since you can't stop it from happening, how long are you going to look at Martin and instead of seeing him on his feet, healing, back at work, are you going to see him lying unconscious and bleeding on the pavement?"

"I don't know." Jack answered truthfully. Inside him he just didn't know.

"Well, that might be something we could work on."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

The next couple of weeks passed fairly uneventfully for the team. Martin was actually allowed a little bit of freedom from the office much to his relief, and Vivian's amusement as she teasingly chided Jack about how long he'd taken to allow her out of the office, and Jack reminded her that while Martin was allowed out of the office he was still relegated to sitting in their missing person's apartment in the hopes that some of her visitors, A/K/A Johns would stop in.

As far as Martin was concerned he was happy to be out of the office, away from the constraints of the office. He was no less bored sitting at the apartment of their MP but at least here he was spared the cautious, sympathetic glances that always seemed to be directed his way. Of course, any time he happened to catch anyone looking at him that way they immediately felt compelled to come up to him directly and ask how he was feeling, how was the pain, was he glad he was back and the truth was he was feeling stronger and was in less pain and yes, he was glad to be back but he was also tired of answering the same inane questions again and again and wished people would just leave him alone.

So, sitting in Dina Kingston's apartment in essence doing nothing but watching time click by was a relief. He'd gone through everything in her desk, calendar, notebooks; anything he could find and now was just sitting there. Eventually it came time to do something about food so he called a nearby Chinese restaurant and ordered some plain rice and Won Ton soup figuring that would settle fairly well. How quickly he realized he was wrong.

His body, while healing from much of the trauma inflicted by two bullets and then the carving blades of surgeons seeking to save his life, still rebelled against some of the simple things. Coffee still burned in his system, anything spicy hurt while being digested, anything with high fiber was certainly not on his plate or in his bowl and today his body even rejected simple rice and broth, as he'd just chosen to sip the broth of the soup, slowly.

At least this time when his body rebelled it chose to rebel by causing a heaving bout of vomiting, usually such an episode ran the other way but it appeared that even his body was tiring of the rebellion. Still Martin ended up shivering from the violent bout of nausea and to add insult to injury, his stomach continued to loudly grumble that it was empty.

He was only too happy to call it quits at the end of the day and allow the rest of the team to finish up the details.

As the days and weeks continued to pass by Martin found that more and more he was able to eat small and simple meals, he took up brisk morning walks and even allowed himself a half a block of jogging that eventually turned into a block and then two.

He and Danny seemed to find the rhythm in their friendship again, although Martin knew that Danny frequently insisted on the yeoman's share of the case paperwork enabling Martin to head home a bit early. However as Martin was slowly gaining ground he found he didn't mind; there would come a day when he'd be able to pull his entire weight on the team again so he allowed himself the luxury of a slightly less taxing work day.

Another thing that improved Martin's mindset was that his sessions with Lisa were done unless he felt the need to see her. As he was feeling pretty good at work and overall feeling like he was getting back on track physically he figured he had turned the corner. Also, since Jack never once brought up anything about adding another agent to the team Martin began to relax his worry that he was going to be replaced.

"Hey, Martin, why don't you wait a minute and I'll file this report and head out with you, we can grab something down the street to eat." Sam called out as Martin reentered the bullpen having finished his debrief with Jack.

"Uh, sure, Sam, what do you need, five minutes more?" Martin met her gaze across the area and tried to keep his tone light and eliminate the confusion from his voice even as he knew it was spread across his face. Surprisingly Sam just smiled brightly and said five minutes would be fine and then she departed the bullpen, report in hand calling good night to Vivian and Danny as she disappeared.

Martin idly shifted some objects on his desk while he waited for her return and watched as Danny finished a phone call confirming his date for the evening and then headed out and Vivian quietly finished a report at her desk. When Sam returned she grabbed her bag and coat and the two of them left the office and headed down to the street and down a few blocks to a little bistro.

Sitting in the booth they had been given Martin watched as Sam ordered her dinner, salad and grilled fish and he ordered the same and then continued to watch her as their waitress whisked their menus away and hurried off to place their order.

Sam looked up, met Martin's steady but confused stare and quickly checked the restaurant for what might be confusing him before looking back at him, "What?"

"I guess I was wondering who are you and what have you done with Samantha Spade." Martin replied adding a small chuckle at the end and forcing a smile to soften any bitterness in his words.

Sam just grinned at him as she took a sip from her water glass. "What do you mean?"

"You just asked me to dinner in front of the office. I mean I don't consider this a date, nor do I think you meant it as such but still what gives?"

Sam sighed deeply and shook her head slightly, "I don't know, it's just that I was hungry, I figured you were hungry and it just seemed like – like with all that's happened there's no reason not to go grab a bite to eat."

No reason not to grab a bite… "Sam, look I'm not trying to pick a fight or anything, really, I'm not but I am confused. When we were dating you didn't want anyone to know about us even after people knew about us and now that we're not dating – well, don't you think this is just going to get people wondering if we are dating?"

Before she could answer the waitress appeared with their salads and a basket of warm bread. By mutual accord a truce in the conversation occurred and both worked on their salads for a few minutes until Martin broke the truce.

"Sam, is this your way of making sure you've fulfilled your promise?"

"My promise? What are you talking about?" Sam looked searchingly at Martin, how could he know?

"You know, the one where you're holding my hand in the hospital and you say you're not going anywhere until you know that I'm all right. Ring a bell?"

Sam looked at Martin in surprise wondering how he knew about that but she was relieved to see a smile and a genuine spark in his eyes, not forced, nothing to indicate bitterness or anger.

"I do remember that. I'm wondering how you know about it?"

"Seems you and my father spent a night holding vigil at my side. My father can be discreet and although he heard you talking to me he chose to give you some more time alone before he joined you in my room."

Sam blushed slightly remembering the horrible fear of that night, the hours spent there holding Martin's hand and watching him while across the bed his father sat in silence and his own private pain. The two had formed an unspoken bond of sorts that night one that had surprised them at how simple it was to interact with each other in the days and weeks ahead. It was Sam and Victor who had headed to Martin's apartment to bring him things he needed or wanted while in the hospital, both had worked together to arrange Martin's care once he left the hospital and each had kept the other up to date on his progress in physical therapy or in arranging visiting scheduled\s for friends who had helped keep Martin's spirits up both in the hospital and during the long recovery at home.

Sam smiled now at the memory. For all her fears of what people would think and what Martin's family would think of her she found Victor someone she was almost instantly comfortable with and while she was less comfortable with Martin's mom she didn't find anything about either of his parents that made her feel self-conscious about being there for Martin.

"Martin, are you ever sad that we didn't work out?"

Martin finished chewing and swallowing his salad with some water before he set his fork down to think a moment before he answered. "Yes and no. The yes part is because I really thought we had a chance for something but now that I look back on it I realize that we never really did, so with that in mind I'm not sad anymore."

Sam caught sight of their waitress coming their way with the entrees and she waited until they were both a couple of bites into their main course before she picked up the thread of the conversation. The time she had been given allowed her to process Martin's words and she could see that he was watching for her response but she was surprised at the comfortable atmosphere still between them, they should have talked like this before she realized.

"What part of 'us' made you think it could work?"

"We both have similar passions about the work, we challenge each other in terms of right and wrong, we both like basketball." Martin grinned.

"There is that and yes, we were good when we talked about work and how cases affect us or how we view them and the basketball games were good too."

"When you let me read the sports page."

"Which was only after I was done with it."

"And after you had crinkled it up."

Sam hesitated slightly needing to ask the next logical question but afraid to lose the easy friendship in the air surrounding them.

"So what part do you realize doomed us from the beginning?" She asked softly and then nervously bit the inside of her mouth while waiting for his answer.

Martin for his part was equally nervous both wanting to continue this conversation and the honesty between them that had been so absent when they were dating but fearing that by being honest he would end the friendship. In the end honesty won out, there would be no friendship if they couldn't be honest.

"The part that I should have seen from the beginning is that you and I see relationships differently and want different things. For me a relationship with someone is exciting and scary and there's work and play involved. You don't hide a relationship, the whole idea of getting serious with someone is terrifying but if you think you've found someone to be with then the terror is welcomed. I thought we had that possibility having spent two years learning about each other and sharing some of our fears and secrets but I missed the key sign that should have told me don't go on, pay attention to the caution signs you've seen. I missed those signs or actually ignored them and we paid the price."

"What were the signs?"

"The times when you indicated with brutal honesty that you liked messy complicated relationships and kids weren't in your future, not in this lifetime. You were honest when you said those words and I should have paid closer attention. For whatever reason I think you see yourself as either not worthy of a real relationship or you see relationships in too idealized a way and since you know that about yourself you've learned to protect that ideal behind a barrier and so you seek out those relations with people that have no chance of ever being anything more than messy and complicated and ultimately will not last."

Sam just stared in silence at Martin. She felt numb with disbelief at what she was hearing and couldn't speak. After staring at him for about a minute without speaking she focused a bit and realized that he was meeting her gaze unwaveringly and that while there was sorrow in his eyes there wasn't any anger. She replayed his words in her mind and realized that the tone he had used when he said them was even almost neutral there wasn't any judgment or bitterness only a calm evaluation.

The two of them finished their meal silently and while a large degree of the comfortable quiet that had been between them had dissipated it hadn't been replaced with coldness or anger or even tension, both felt a soft acceptance and shared sorrow but their ability to read each other remained and so Martin knew to signal for the check forgoing coffee and desert and Sam was grateful for his awareness.

Outside the bistro they walked side by side for about a block before Sam gently put her hand on Martin's arm to stop him.

"Martin, do you think I am incapable of love?"

Martin looked down at Sam and saw almost a child-like pleading in her eyes.

"No, Sam, I don't think you're incapable. I just think you aren't ready to accept that you're worthy of it. One day I hope you realize you are worthy of it and let yourself go for it and I hope you find it with someone who will let you be you and not try to control you. I like to think that we were on equal footing at least as far as how we viewed each other and that while we each had different goals, or actually were moving at different speeds that I never tried to control you. I hope that's something you take away from our time together. It may be cliché or trite or whatever but no experience is completely bad if you can learn something."

Sam nodded slowly processing his words. Absently she waved her arm signaling an approaching cab that obligingly pulled in at the curb for her. Martin leaned past her and opened the door and then stepped back for her to enter.

"Martin, what did you learn from being with me?"

Martin looked at Sam as she stood at the open door of the cab ready to step inside as he answered, "Not to read too much into anything." He gave her a small smile. "Sometimes a cab ride really is just a cab ride."

She stood there for a moment watching him and just as she was about to say something his arm shot up and he gestured, another cab zipped to the curb.

"See you tomorrow." Martin called as he stepped up to the second cab, opened the door and climbed inside.

Sam quietly folded herself into the back seat of her cab, gave the driver directions and thoughtfully watched the city blocks slide by her on her ride home.

It had been five months since he had been shot and two months since he returned to work and Martin and Jack were leaving the hospital after having seen Shawn Hopkins reunited with his parents. The two men were exhausted, Jack from having run the investigation and assisted in the successful negotiation that freed Shawn and Martin was exhausted from having spent the last two days at the Hopkins' home monitoring phone calls, interviewing visitors, some amount of hand holding for both parents and being on the front lines of the emotional rollercoaster that all loved ones of missing people go through.

As they headed down the corridor Jack was finishing a phone call. He clicked his phone closed and slipped into his pocket at the same time turning to Martin.

"We got another one."

"What is it?"

"Woman missing in Chelsea, I'm heading over to interview the husband."

"I'll start on the financials." Martin offered as they continued out of the hospital and headed towards their cars.

"That would be great." Jack replied and the two men separated. As Jack slipped behind the wheel of his car his eyes caught the flash of Martin's headlights coming up and for a moment Jack just stared as he watched Martin's profile, lit only by the lights of the hospital parking lot, as Martin drove by and headed to the office. He's back.

Jack shook his head as he heard the voice in his head repeat itself. He's back.

Damn, Jack thought. Lisa will want to take all the credit for this from their 'sessions' as their off the record chats had been of late, but somehow it had happened. Somehow in all the weeks since she confronted him about the videotape and his own fears for his team, somehow it had happened. Martin had healed, Danny was back to normal and Jack hadn't second guessed any of Martin's moves or any of his orders to Martin. He didn't know when it had happened, he didn't know how but he knew right then and there that after 48 hours of nonstop work he had readily accepted Martin's calm acceptance of the next job.

Jack realized, as he started the car and shifted into drive that while Martin looked tired and sounded tired that was simply because of the long hours recently spent and that the man didn't look or sound any more weary than Jack himself felt or looked. Amazing, maybe time really does heal all wounds.

TBC…


	8. Chapter 8

Freefall:

Chapter 8:

"Martin, Simmons is headed your way." Danny spoke into his mic as he left Jack with Max Cassidy.

"Copy that." Martin signaled his men as they approached a set of stairs connecting all levels of the warehouse. Suddenly the sound of a gun firing pierced the air from above. Martin and his men ducked for cover.

Martin depressed his mic's transmit key, "Shots fired!" Then yelled up at the shooter, "FBI! Drop your weapon!" Another salvo of bullets rained down on him for his effort.

Splitting his agents in two directions he directed them to cover the exits. The adrenaline pumped in his system as he headed up the stairs completely focused on the task at hand until suddenly the sound of bullets connecting with metal broke his concentration. Martin flattened himself against the wall and suddenly his mind was flashing images of another moment in time, a time when a blue van stopped in front of his car, the back doors swung open, in those flashes in his mind he not only saw muzzle flashes but 'heard' the sound of bullets striking metal, and his mind conjured the smell of gun smoke filling the air. Shaking his head as he pressed hard against the cool concrete wall Martin tried to free his mind of the images.

The firing from above stopped and Martin once again shook his head violently to clear it. He keyed his mic while simultaneously resuming the chase. "Suspect headed to the roof."

Hitting the emergency door to the roof Martin cautiously checked to make sure the going was safe. Seeing and hearing no one he continued. A pebble being kicked above caused him to turn his attention upward and he realized Simmons was one level up.

Heading to the stairs he slowly made his way upward keeping his gun trained forward. Suddenly a pipe appeared catching him in the shoulder, toppling him backward down the metal stairs. Martin's gun flew from his hand and he landed at the bottom, winded. As he lay there stunned and unable to breathe his mind played another moment from his life, a moment when suddenly Danny stood beside him. Martin could 'see' himself no longer lying on a metal staircase landing but instead strapped in a car, held by a seatbelt.

In that moment he saw not the night sky above him and the light off the top of the roof of the warehouse but instead there is blood seeping through his fingers, fingers that seem strangely disconnected from his body as they pluck at his shirt. A noise to his left causes him to try to turn in that direction but he has no strength and instead his head lolls to the side and the face of his partner, Danny Taylor, appears. He can see Danny's lips moving but he can't hear anything, there's a ringing sound in his ears that is deafening.

He looks back down at his chest and sees Danny's hand throwing the seatbelt away and then watches as the interior of the car tilts wildly as he's lifted out of the car. There is no pain, no sound, no smell and no air. As he sees the night sky above him he panics as he realizes he can't breathe. His lungs try to draw in air but there is nothing there and then Danny's face looms in view again and he can once again see his partner's lips moving but there is no sound. Fear, he sees fear in Danny's face but he doesn't know why Danny is afraid. He tries to draw breath again but everything fades to black.

Suddenly air rushes back into Martin's lungs and he hears voices above him, Danny's voice.

"Get on the ground! Get on the ground!"

Martin struggles to his feet, runs up the stairs. Reaching the top he sees Simmons turned to him as if intending to run down the very stairs he'd only moments ago knocked Martin down. Martin lashes out in an instant with his fist and connects solidly with Simmons' face causing Simmons to land hard on the rooftop. An agent appears and handcuffs Simmons and hauls him away.

The ringing begins to fill Martin's ears and head but before it engulfs him he hears Danny radio in, "Primary suspect has been apprehended on the roof."

Then the pain hits. The agony starts in his hip and he stumbles slightly trying to balance himself on legs that no longer want to hold him. Drawing in a breath trying to ease the sharp pain in his hip he feels a burn in his chest that reminds him of the first time he realized the value of a PCA pump. He longs to reach for the lever that releases a dose of morphine into his system to cool the fire in his chest but all there is at hand is a cold rooftop.

"Martin, Martin, are you okay?"

Danny's voice calls to him and Martin looks over and sees Danny's worried face. The answer was automatic; he didn't even have to think.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Martin shakily draws in another breath and this time the only pain that it brings is in his hip. Thank God.

Danny eyes Martin's attempt to shake off whatever has happened not believing for a second the man is fine. Danny can see Martin is in pain. Taking stock of the situation around him Danny nods in appreciation as the agents shuffle Simmons off the roof and down to the ground level for transport to booking. He knows Jack needed him back inside the warehouse although by now the paramedics must have arrived but he also needs to stay with Martin who despite assuring him he is fine definitely is not fine.

"Martin, I've got to go get Jack. Come on down with me, I want the paramedics to give you a quick check, okay."

When Martin continued to stand where he was holding a hand on his hip while he stared at some object on the ground, Danny approached, looked down and saw the metal pipe lying at the edge of the roof.

"Martin." Danny spoke softly not wanting to startle the man.

"Yeah, just let me go and get my gun, all right?" Martin looked ruefully at Danny and Danny was sure he saw a bit of embarrassment in his partner's eyes. Maybe that was it the man was embarrassed he'd lost his piece; it wasn't something to be proud of.

"Where is it?" Danny asked.

Martin sighed and then pointed down the fire escape stairs. Danny peered over the edge and noted a hint of metal glimmering.

Looking back at Martin he saw the resignation in his partner's eyes, embarrassment, he's just embarrassed.

"I'll get it. You stay here. Don't argue." Danny firmly told Martin and gave him a glare that Malone would have been proud of but that was more reminiscent of Vivian when she was in her best 'field agent who is a mother don't pull that crap on me' mode. Danny contained the smile he felt wanting to burst out when Martin complied..

Skimming down the stairs Danny grabbed Martin's gun, checked the safety and the load and then safed the weapon. As he stepped on the bottom step intent to regain the roof he looked up and in that moment it hit him, the pipe, Martin's pain and in a flash he 'saw' Martin fall. Shit.

Returning to the roof he saw Martin standing just as he had left him. Touching his arm he handed him his piece and watched as Martin checked the safety and the load and then reholstered the weapon. Encouraged Danny led his partner to the roof door, down the stairs and outside to the waiting ambulance. Upon arrival he turned Martin over to one of the EMTs and then stepped over to one of his fellow agents who was speaking to a police lieutenant.

Joining the group he heard them mention Ricin having been detected in the building. He was given permission to enter the building and get Jack out but that took a bit more doing as Jack refused to leave without Max. Finally it took Danny convincing a bio-hazard team to enter with a litter and carefully transport Max Cassidy's body out of the building before Jack would agree to leave.

By then over 30 minutes had passed and Danny was surprised to see the ambulance crew still onsite having expected them to transport Martin to the hospital. Walking over he caught the eye of the EMT.

"Where's the agent you were checking out?"

"He caught a ride with one of the patrol cars."

This was news to Danny. "To where?"

"Not sure, probably headquarters."

Danny shook his head in annoyance. "I thought you were going to transport him to the hospital?"

"He didn't need it. Vital signs normal, he was a little sore which is to be expected but he was oriented to space and time and he refused transport. As his ABCs were all fine, there was no reason to take him to the hospital."

Danny didn't like it but as the man had said, air, breathing, cardiopulmonary were all fine, ABCs, there was nothing more they could do. Still, there was something Danny could do. Pulling out his cell he dialed Samantha's. He was relieved when she picked up mid-way through the second ring.

"Spade."

"Sam, it's Danny."

"Hey. Is it true?"

"Yeah, Sam, we got to Max. He's dead. Listen, do me a favor will you."

"Sure."

"Martin took a bit of a fall during the chase of Simmons—"

"What! Danny!"

"Relax. There was a chase and Martin took a fall, more like a hit and then a fall…"

Danny filled Sam in quickly and after receiving her assurance that she'd follow up with Martin he turned to the scene trying not to worry. There had been something in Martin's eyes that caused Danny to fret. His friend had only in the last few weeks begun to show he was feeling fine again; Danny didn't want anything to turn that backwards.

A half hour passed after Sam took Danny's call and she began to worry, whatever squad car Martin had caught a ride with should have delivered him to the office by now. Dialing his cell phone she tapped her fingers nervously on the desktop—voicemail.

"_Hi, you've reached Agent Fitzgerald. Leave a message and I'll call you back."_

"Martin, it's Samantha. Look Danny told me you'd caught a ride back with a squad and I just wondered if you were coming here or where you were going. Give me a call when you get this."

Yeah, right, that doesn't sound suspicious.

She and Martin had managed to find some stable ground to rebuild their friendship but she knew he was likely to draw away if he felt she was hovering. Funny, all the time they'd been seeing each other he'd wanted to be let in more but she wouldn't let him; now that they weren't dating she found herself wanting to be let in more but he wouldn't let her. Damn it was frustrating.

Well, she thought, straight ahead is the best and only way. If the mountain won't come to --blah, blah, blah, she was going to the mountain. Squaring away her desk she headed out. Olczyk was in with Anne Cassidy and Danny was coming back with Jack, Vivian had only left five minutes ahead of her so Sam decided her time was best spent checking on Martin. Getting her car out of the garage she headed on the well driven route to Martin's apartment. She'd driven the route plenty of times after work in the past few months and before she knew it she was at his apartment.

She'd tried his home number and cell numerous times on the drive over and only got his answering machine or voice mail. Leaving a message on his home and foregoing leaving another on his voice mail she'd suppressed her worry and concentrated on driving. Upon arriving she was pleased at finding a parking spot on the street less than half a block from his building's entrance. Covering the distance quickly she entered the lobby and headed for the elevator.

Her nerves were starting to communicate their worry the closer she got to her destination. She reminded herself to relax. At most she was going to find him nursing a bruise or two and just too tired to answer his phone. I hope that's all it is.

Reaching his door she knocked and waited, and waited, and waited. The buzzing of her nerves was getting stronger and more insistent and finally her worry won out. She had a key to his apartment, might as well use it. Grabbing her key ring from her coat pocket she flicked out his key; he'd given it to her when they were dating and they'd not gotten around to exchanging them back after they broke up and then he was shot and she'd been a fairly regular visitor in those first weeks of him returning home, so she still had it. Inserting it into the lock she turned first one, then the second and then the third before she could enter his apartment.

"Martin." Sam called out not wanting to startle him too badly.

There was a light on in the kitchen and she saw light spilling down the hallway from his bedroom. The sound of running water sounded in her ears. He's taking a shower, that's a good sign.

Deciding to make herself comfortable Sam stepped all the way inside, closed and relocked the door behind her. Slipping off her coat she draped it over the back of a chair and stood in the center of his living room.

It had been a couple of weeks, well, closer to a month since she'd last been here. Since he'd returned to work she hadn't been coming over as much. True, they were friends and they would always have something special in their past but she wasn't his girlfriend anymore and it didn't seem right to come over here all the time, especially now that he was back on his feet and doing well.

The couch looked about the same as it had before except there were no extra pillows or blanket for when he was resting. The coffee table was back in its usual spot and devoid of any pill bottles, water glasses, tissues or anything of that kind. There was a book there; Alive she noted was part of the title, something about the Rugby team crashing in the Andes and their survival story. Martin had always liked to read and no subject disinterested him.

Her cell phone rang at the same moment the shower stopped. She grabbed her phone and saw it was Danny.

"Spade."

"Hey, Sam, it's Danny. Where are you? Have you seen Martin? Is he okay? Is he with you?"

"Calm down, Danny. I'm at Martin's apartment. He didn't answer my calls so I drove over here and let myself in. He's finishing in the shower and I'll talk to him then but from what I can tell he's probably fine." Hearing movement behind her Sam turned and saw Martin, clad only in a towel from the waist down standing there.

She studied his torso for a moment – she'd never seen the scars. My, God, what he's been through.

Danny's voice in her ear broke her daze and she gave Martin an apologetic smile and returned her attention to her cell phone.

"Sam?" Danny pressed.

"Sorry, Martin's fine. I'll take care of things, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks. I'll finish up here and then head for home. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Don't worry. I can handle this. Take care and I'll see you in the morning."

Turning around she noted Martin was just turning away from her and moving back down the hallway to his bedroom. Craning her neck she noted the bruises already visible across his shoulder and back and one that disappeared down under the towel across his hip.

"Sorry, about that." Sam called as she pocketed her cell phone.

"Miss me?" Martin responded from the bedroom.

"Uh, something like that. Danny said you took a pretty good fall and when you didn't answer your cell or home phone, I decided to check on you."

"It's nothing, I'm fine. I'll be right out."

Sam remained standing in the living room. All this time she realized she'd never seen the scars caused by the bullets and the surgery that saved his life, she knew she should have known they'd be there but it was one thing to imagine them quite another to actually see them and those bruises—he most definitely was not fine.

Watching Martin slowly walk back into the living room confirmed her suspicions and her decision; he had been hurt, and badly.

"Where are your shoes?" She asked pointing to his bare feet.

Martin had returned wearing a pair of running pants and a jersey but no shoes were evident.

"My shoes? Why?" Martin looked at his feet and then up at her curiously.

"Because you can't go without footwear that's why." Sam put her hands on her hips, she wasn't backing down.

"Go where?"

"The hospital."

"Sam, I'm fine. I got checked by paramedics at the scene. Everything works, I'm fine."

"Uh-huh. Lift your right arm above your head."

Martin glared at her but did, slowly, painfully, sucking in a deep breath and closing his eyes against the fire that rippled across his shoulder and back.

Opening his eyes triumphantly after completing the maneuver he noted he was looking at an empty living room. A sound behind him caused him to turn around, slowly.

"Sam?"

"Hold on." She grumpily answered.

Reappearing from his bedroom and carrying a pair of sneakers and a pair of socks she returned to the living room and motioned for him to sit down on one of the chairs. The look she gave him indicated she was in no mood for an argument, neither was he but he knew he wouldn't get her out of his apartment unless he complied.

Sitting down he sat back and watched tiredly but amusedly as she picked up first one foot, slid the sock on and then the sneaker, set it back down and tied it and then repeated the action on the other foot. When she was done she looked up to see him smiling at her. A faint shade of pink graced her cheeks and then disappeared as Special Agent Samantha Spade returned in force. Minutes later they were in her car and heading down the street en route to the nearest hospital.

**Four hours later**:

"72 hours, minimum, if you're still fighting a headache and aching back, another 24 after that." Dr. Litchsko ordered.

As Martin opened his mouth intent to argue Sam intervened having utilized her FBI credentials yet again and her newly and self-appointed status of agent in-charge of the situation to gain access to Martin's discharge discussion with the doctor.

"No problem, Doctor, I've already notified the command post agent that his status is off duty for an indeterminate period of time and that has been cleared." Sam ignored the dirty and somewhat confused look Martin sent her way as she continued. "I'll take care of his prescription and make sure a copy of his discharge orders are filed with the boss in the morning."

"Thank you, Agent--" Dr. Litchsko hesitated at her name.

"Spade, and you're welcome." Sam flashed him a winning smile and held out her hand taking the prescription for a pain killer and the discharge instructions as the doctor returned his attention to Martin.

"Remember, Agent Fitzgerald, while you don't have a concussion or any broken bones you do still need some rest to recover. The fall was quite traumatic to your body and you will definitely notice more bruising and a deepening of the currently evident bruises over the next few days. The more rest you get, the faster you will recover and I already know from your file that you know the value of pain medication. You're body can't rest and heal if you are ignoring the pain symptoms. Take the medicine as you need it and as prescribed, the likelihood of becoming addicted is minimal if you follow that guideline so don't worry about that, all right?"

Martin nodded and reached to shake the doctor's hand. Giving Sam a look that communicated make sure he follows these orders Dr. Litchsko left the exam room.

Sam stood near the door allowing Martin the 'dignity' of getting himself off the exam table and shuffling stiffly to the door. He stopped and started to give her a dirty look which she shrugged off, opened the door and gestured grandly for him to walk through.

After completing the check out from the hospital and trekking to her car Martin stifled a groan as he lowered himself into the passenger's seat. Wincing as Sam shut the door perhaps a bit forcibly next to him he reached for the seat belt and buckled himself in, leaned his head back and close his eyes; he was so tired.

Sam got into the driver's side of the car, locked the doors and stuck the key in the ignition, pulled her seat belt on before looking over at her friend and fellow agent. She knew he was upset, upset that he was back in the hospital, back to being in pain, back to being slowed down by an injury that couldn't have been avoided and back to being ordered out of work.

"Hey, it's only three days." She tried to jolly him out of his dark mood.

"Who the hell is the 'command post agent' anyway? You made that up, right?" Martin asked her with a bit of wistful hopefulness creeping into his voice.

"Nope, that would be Vivian. Jack is going to be busy tomorrow with the fall out of Agent Cassidy's death and Vivian is in charge of the unit. I contacted her while you were in x-ray and advised her of your status at that point. As soon as I get you back home and get this prescription filled at the all-night pharmacy, I'll be updating her voice mail and letting her know that you are medically disabled for the next 72 hours, no arguments."

"Fine." Martin replied not caring in the least that he sounded surly. He was tired and tired of being tired. He was sore and tired of being sore and not for the first time but certainly the first time in a while he was feeling a bit sorry for himself. Closing his eyes to avoid discussing anything further and rested his head back against the headrest as Sam turned the engine on and drove out of the parking garage.

20 minutes later Sam pulled up in front of an all-night pharmacy near Martin's neighborhood and turned the ignition off.

"You'll be all right here while I go get this filled?" She asked shifting in her seat to look at him; she knew he wasn't asleep.

"Yes, Mom, I'll be fine." He answered not opening his eyes.

"All right. I'll be back as quick as I can." Sam unlocked the door, stepped out and relocked the door behind her by pressing the lock button on the key chain. As she stepped into the pharmacy she gave a backward glance at the car. She could see Martin in the passenger seat, head tilted back against the head rest. She felt bad for his pain and his recent injuries but they were minor; he'd be back at work in no time. Slipping inside the building she headed for the secure area in the back where the pharmacy was located.

Martin didn't notice how much time passed by after Sam exited the car. Instead he concentrated on keeping his eyes closed and trying not to dwell in his own private misery of aching joints, soreness whenever he moved and the fact that he had just begun feeling good again, really good and had even started running again only to be knocked on his ass, literally, that would set him back again.

He hated the idea of taking the pain meds as they upset his stomach and made him dizzy and foggy and sleepy. He hated the idea of spending the next 72 hours resting in his apartment. It wasn't like he could go to museums and hang out in the park or anywhere, 72 hours of sick time meant 72 hours of sleeping in bed, lying on the couch and wandering around his apartment trying to be interested in a book.

The honk of a horn startled him causing him to sit straight up and his eyes to fly open. Right in front of him was a blue van and he froze as he saw the rear doors of the van fling open and two men jump out with automatic guns and begin firing….

"Martin!"

Martin flinched as Sam's hand rested on his forearm. Breathing heavily he tried to clear his head by shaking it and rubbing at his eyes…he'd seen it, hadn't he?

"I didn't think you were asleep. I'm sorry I startled you." Sam said as she held her hand out to him.

Martin just stared at her trying to clear his head. Looking at her in confusion he shook his head again and then stared out the front of the car. There was nothing there but a clear line of sight to the corner and a traffic light blinking yellow. Martin felt something brush his arm and looked down to see Sam holding a bag out to him. Numbly he took it and set it on his lap, he had seen them, right?

"Hey, you okay?" Sam's voice was full of concern.

Martin looked at her as he tried to push the images from his mind, images he didn't understand.

"Yeah, I'm just tired. I guess I am glad I don't have to go in tomorrow." He said giving her a weak smile.

"Not just tomorrow, the next day and the next and then it's the weekend. So in reality you have the next five days off. Oh, yeah and Vivian already called Danny, he's covering your on-call this weekend."

Martin gave Sam another of the night's dirty looks as she turned the key in the ignition and put the car in drive, looking over at him she caught his look.

"What, she left a message on my phone. I didn't call her while I was in there. I'll take your paperwork in in the morning and that's all there is to it."

As Sam pressed on the accelerator smoothly pulling away from the curb and driving the rest of the way to Martin's apartment Martin allowed his head to fall back against the head rest and tried to figure out just what it was he had seen when he'd opened his eyes just after the car honked….

TBC…


	9. Chapter 9

Repercussions

Chapter 9:

Sam walked into the office the next morning carrying a double espresso cappuccino, her second, and trying to banish the worry from her mind and her face; she wasn't successful.

"That bad, huh?"

Sam stopped abruptly giving Vivian a sharp look before finding her voice.

"What – no, it's not…what are we talking about?"

"Sam, no offense but you look like you spent the night worrying and not sleeping. I thought you told me Martin was fine, nothing broken and not needing anything more than so Tylenol III and a few days rest, so why the bags under your eyes and the haggard expression?

"Thanks for the little 'beauty pep talk' there, Viv, and, no, it's not that bad. The doctor put him out for 72 hours, nothing serious you're right. I took him home and left him there around 1:00 a.m. and got up at 6:00 to get here so, yes, I'm tired thus the large double espresso cappuccino." Sam waved the large container at Vivian for emphasis. "But no, he's fine, a little put out that he's out of work again, nothing more."

"Well, that's logical, Martin's only been back to full duty for a couple of months and probably has finally begun to feel better for less than that so I'm sure he's disappointed." Vivian agreed and moved to the side allowing Samantha to continue on her way into the bullpen.

"Yeah, still, I told him that you backed up the doctor's appraisal so if he's upset at anyone besides the doctor, it's likely to be you." Samantha called over her shoulder as she left Vivian behind.

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head patiently Vivian headed for Jack's office. He was there long enough to gather up the case materials before he had to report to Olyczyk's to continue the after action report in the case that led to the death of one agent, Max Cassidy.

Knocking on his door she entered without waiting for his signal.

"Jack, how's Anne doing?" Vivian was genuinely concerned. She went home the night before and hugged Marcus and just felt comforted by being in his presence; he had known the fear of loosing her and in many respects her of him but the death of Max Cassidy, a fellow agent, and watching Anne deal with it set off in her a need to go home and just hold her husband and enjoy his presence.

"She's doing as well as can be expected. I think she's gone with a close friend to work on funeral arrangements today and sort out all the legal paperwork." Jack grabbed the folders off his desk that he needed and looked around, one was missing.

Vivian held it out to him and he gave her a grateful look as he took it.

"I appreciate you covering things down here while I'm up there making sure no one puts the blame for any of this on Max – jackass he may be, still he stopped what would have been a serious biological threat."

"He deserves recognition for that and I know you'll see that that happens. Everyone is getting their reports up to date except for Martin. I'll talk to him later and get his debrief and his final report will be in early next week."

"Okay. Why isn't he here? Why are you talking to him later?" Jack stopped his progress to the door of his office at Vivian's words. He studied the bullpen quickly and noted the presence of Sam and Danny but Martin's desk was notably empty and dark.

"He was injured last night." Vivian raised her hand as Jack whirled around to face her. "It's not serious. Danny had him checked at the scene and Samantha made sure he got to the ER for a thorough exam. Bruised bones notably the hip and shoulder, strained and pulled muscles in his back and hip and a hefty bruise to his head but no concussion. Still, the doctor insisted he take 72 hours to rest in light of his recent injuries and I have strongly agreed with the doctor's assessment."

Jack gave Vivian a wry look that told her he was glad he wasn't on the receiving end of such a 'strong agreement' from her. She gave him her most innocent smile and then lightly pushed him to the door.

"Everybody is fine here and I've got things covered. Like I said, I'll talk to Martin later and get his full brief, I'll probably do a face to face with him at his apartment to get the best read and have him note his points so he can complete his report upon his return, all right?"

Jack nodded relieved that he had such a strong team to back him up at this time when he himself was in need of support at the sudden loss of a long-time friend and agent. "Thanks, Viv."

"Go. Don't keep 'upstairs' waiting."

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Martin bolted upright the sounds of gunshots ringing in his ears. Gasping for air he looked frantically around him; his apartment. He tried to slow his breathing as he realized that it had all been a dream, a nightmare really. He was home, in the middle of the day. There was no blue van, no rain-slicked street, no smell of gunpowder, no burning rubber assaulting his nostrils. Just his living room, television on the sports channel showing some soccer game halfway around the world, sound down low.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

This time the sound made sense to him, knocking, someone was knocking on his door. Taking a deep breath he swung his feet to the floor, stood up and gingerly began to move as aching muscles gave voice to their distress but it was a voice he was easily able to push aside. Reaching the door he slid open the view hole and saw Vivian standing in the hall.

"Hang on, Viv."

"All right, Martin."

Rubbing his hands briskly over his face in an effort to wipe away any trace of sleep he then reached out and unlocked the door and opened it for her to enter.

"Hey."

Vivian looked him up and down, yep, woke him up.

"Hey, handsome." She gave him a smile as she stepped into his apartment. It had been quite some time since she had last been here. At that time both of them were still on medical leave although she was only a week away from going back to work and Martin had been home for just a week….

_Vivian paused for a moment before knocking. She'd called ahead and arranged a brief visit with Martin for today and he'd sounded happy that she was coming. She adjusted the handle of the carryall in her hand and knocked she was really looking forward to seeing him again now that he was out of the hospital. _

_She heard footsteps, brisk and steady, Not Martin. she thought and then the door opened and she found herself face to face with Victor Fitzgerald._

"_Assistant Deputy Director Fitzgerald, what an unexpected surprise." Vivian said as he smiled at her from within his son's apartment._

"_I think you can call me Victor, since were out of the office, don't you think?"_

_Vivian smiled warmly as she noted the barest of crinkling around the man's eyes, Victor Fitzgerald smiles, amazing. _

"_All right, but only if you call me Vivian." She answered in return._

"_Thank you, Vivian, please come on in. Martin has been expecting you." _

_Entering Martin's apartment she saw the unmistakable evidence of a long-term recuperation, blankets and pillows on the couch, table pulled close with an assortment of meds, juice and water glasses, tissues and remote and books all scattered for ease of reach, much like her living room had been until earlier this week.__._

"_Martin will be out in a moment, he's just getting something from the bedroom." Victor said, as he offered to take the bag she was carrying and gestured for her to take a seat._

"_Thank you, Victor." Vivian replied as she handed him the padded carryall. "I made some soup, chicken with lots of broth a few vegetables, nothing too rough for him and there's some other homemade goodies in there that he may like or he can freeze until he's feeling up to it."_

"_That's great, I'll put these in the fridge and let him decide. Can I get you something to drink, coffee, tea, water anything?" Victor asked as he headed to the kitchen._

"_Water would be great, I don't want to impose." Vivian answered barely containing a smile, who would have thought that Victor Fitzgerald could be so – so socially polite. _

"_It's not a bother if you'd rather something else, I've just been boiling water for tea for Martin I can easily add a cup for you."_

"_Tea would be nice, thank you. And thank you so much for the plant and the book. How did you know I wanted to learn about Bonsais?" Vivian asked as she settled in a chair and lifted one of the books that was stacked on the coffee table._

_  
Victor appeared from the kitchen with a tray of mugs, milk, sugar, lemons and an assortment of herbal teas that he placed on the table and then handed one of the steaming mugs to Vivian. Stepping back he answered, "Martin shares a lot about his colleagues with me, especially of late. He likes working with you very much." _

_Vivian accepted the steaming mug and selected a flavor and began steeping the teabag. "Well, it was very thoughtful of you and I have been enjoying learning about the art and sculpting my bonsai."_

"_Good, I'm glad. I'm going to head out for a couple of hours, give you and Martin some time and--" Victor cast a quick look back down the hall and then leaned a bit closer to Vivian eyeing her meaningfully. "I know you'll be careful but as a father I can't help but--" Victor paused and took a breath, "Well, just watch him closely, he has a stubborn tendency of trying to overdo because he's a bit frustrated with his recovery. He had therapy this morning and that takes quite a bit out of him so just keep an eye out, please." _

"_Of course, I know what he's going through to some extent and I'll keep care."_

"_I know. A parent worries, right?" Once again Victor smiled._

"_That they do, Victor; that they do." Vivian returned the smile amazed and somewhat saddened that it had taken Martin's near death to bring out the warmth in this man but then just as suddenly she realized that perhaps this was some of the good that was supposed to come out of a bad situation._

This time looking around the apartment she didn't note the usual assortment of items indicating a lengthy convalescence, which heartened her; she knew his injuries were not serious. Still, looking at him she noted something in his eyes—something she couldn't quite identify although her first reaction was fear that made no sense whatsoever however her mind catalogued, tagged and filed away the impression.

"Thanks for seeing me this afternoon." Vivian placed her handbag on a table and kept her notebook and pen handy.

"Not like I had a full calendar of appointments." Martin replied managing a small smile in an attempt to smooth out a surly tone.

"Yeah, well for better or for worse we're batting clean up today as well with no new cases coming online so I'm glad to get over here for a face-to-face debrief with you."

"Yeah, no problem, truth be told, I am kinda lonely." He shrugged, then winced as that pulled on some sore muscles and gave her a small but genuine smile.

"Well, we can't have you lonely, can we?" Vivian replied and then she proceeded to debrief him.

Vivian jotted her notes in clean precise handwriting while Martin recounted his part in the action of the night before. She listened carefully and noted that while he seemed at ease with the subject and readily remembered the details his tone reflected an almost robotic quality when he got to the part about getting hit with the pipe, falling down the stairs and then his final part in the apprehension of Simmons.

Again her mind catalogued the information noting his almost impersonal recounting of the events as if it was simply part of the event and not something that happened to him.

After about 45 minutes she had all the information, at least enough to present a decent draft of his report stating she'd get that typed up and have it waiting for him upon his return for final review and revisions before submission with the case file. Taking a final sip of her water that he'd gotten for her just after they'd started their discussion she set the glass down and then leaned forward a bit studying Martin.

He returned her gaze quizzically and then gave her a small smile, "What?"

"Nothing I just – Martin, you sure you're all right, really all right?"

"Viv, the doctor assured me nothing is broken, no permanent damage done, just some pulled and strained muscles, bruised bones and a good sharp bang on the head that fortunately didn't even result in a concussion; I'm fine."

"I know all that, Martin. What I want to know is how are you doing with being back out of work again so soon after just getting back up to full speed?"

She watched as Martin's smile slipped revealing a hard façade that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared and the smile reasserted itself. "Well, obviously it's not ideal to dip back into some sick time so quick but, better than being laid up in the hospital again or having to face hours and hours of physical therapy, and don't get me started on hospital food again."

"Green jello." They both chorused simultaneously.

Vivian wasn't convinced with Martin's answer since he had danced around the question more than he had answered it but she decided to let it go at that, Martin wouldn't give anymore until he was ready but at least he knew she was willing and available to talk should he wish to.

"Well, all right, I'm convinced for now, but seriously, don't worry about it, nobody wants anything for you other than a quick recovery and return to work and if you're not feeling up to it come Monday, then don't rush, it's not worth it."

Martin nodded in appreciation and after exchanging a few more comments with Vivian saw her to the door and watched as she headed down the hallway. Once again closed and locked inside his apartment his mind wondered turning over her words, both said and unsaid What had she meant by "if you're not feeling up to it come Monday," what did she see?

TBC…


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

Chapter 10:

Monday came and Martin returned to work. Once again he rode the elevator to the 12th floor alone, only this time there was no fear, no pit in his stomach threatening to send him running for the nearest trashcan. This time when the door opened he strode with confidence and vigor down the hall and set his backpack on his desk, fired up his computer and flipped on his desk light.

Thank God there was no one else there to see because he was certain they'd see right through him. He was happy to have returned to work if for no other reason then to keep his mind occupied and hopefully tire out his body and his mind enough that he'd be able to sleep through the night instead of waking every few hours in a cold sweat while sights and sounds flashed inside his head.

He couldn't put all the images together but he did come up with what it all meant, he was remembering. The shooting, the car ride, Danny, Dornvald, all those images had been recorded and locked within his brain and now they were spilling forth. The problem was that not only were the images flashing in his mind but they were vivid, and there were sounds and smells and – and there was pain.

This morning's little wake up had been particularly traumatic wrenching Martin screaming in terror from sleep. He was covered in sweat, shaking and had barely made it to the bathroom before he convulsed over the toilet bowl spilling bile and gagging on the dry heaves as his body physically reacted to the mental images. It had seemed so real.

Shaking with cold and the aftereffects Martin had run a scalding hot shower and tried to steam away the soreness in his body and his mind while simultaneously trying to warm his icy skin. He had been less than successful on all fronts and even now, hours after his early morning awakening, he still felt chilled, and thus it was he still wore his overcoat in the office.

Danny was the next to arrive in the bullpen and he chattered away about his weekend and the demise of New York's baseball teams all the while seemingly oblivious to Martin's quietness and his physical demeanor. Martin for his part simply nodded or interjected an appropriately timed 'really?' all the while huddled in his outer coat scanning emails and praying for warmth.

Behind him he missed Danny's nod of concern that was caught by Sam who gave Martin a close look before heading to the break room. She reappeared carrying a steaming mug with a string hanging out the side, obviously attached to a tea bag, and set it down at Martin's elbow while she perched herself on the side of his desk.

"Hey, you. How about taking your coat off and staying awhile." She smiled in apology at the poor joke but inclined her head to the mug of tea. Leaning in close she whispered, "No one will think anything of it if you aren't feeling well enough to be here."

At that Martin glanced up in surprise. "What do you mean? I feel fine."

"Really, because you look a bit pale and you're positively shivering in that heavy overcoat. I know summer is over but still it's only October, Martin, I mean really, the temperature is 50 this morning, that's not cold by any stretch."

"I – uh – ran out of hot water – well, I mean, there was something wrong with the hot water this morning so I took a cold shower and I'm still chilled that's all." Martin lied without really thinking about it and as he heard himself say the words he knew it sounded like a lie, a bad lie, but he was relieved when Sam gave him a grin, pushed the tea closer to him and then left him alone.

The day wore on and Martin found himself hitting all the right rhythms with the day. He and Danny had been out of the office most of the day re-interviewing witnesses from a case that was a couple of months old but some new leads had developed and they'd both managed to make some connections that lead to additional leads and breathed new life into a cold case. Neither expected the victim to be found alive after all this time but still, closure was closure and sometimes that was the best that could happen in the Missing Person's Unit.

As Martin drove the two of them back to the office he realized that he was tired, physically and mentally. It was a good tired the kind of tired from having put in a hard, productive day at work, there was also a sense of satisfaction.

As he drove down the street keeping pace with the traffic he listened as Danny summarized their findings to Jack on the phone. Seeing the car several lengths ahead turn to yellow he removed his foot without thinking from the gas and gently applied the brakes; obediently the car slowed. As frequently happens in city traffic one person allowing for extra room allows another to take advantage and this time was no different. Martin almost read the other driver's mind knowing full well he was going to swing into the lane in front of him; Martin for his part didn't care and braked harder allowing the blue van to dart in front of him and stop abruptly right at the light.

The explosion of sound and smell and adrenaline and pain hit Martin so fast he was nearly overwhelmed by it. First was the taste of iron in his mouth as his body responded to what only it knew and flooded his system with adrenaline, after that Martin's ears were deafened by the hammering of bullets through the air and then the car shuddered around him with their impact.

He began to cough with the smell of gun powder and his breath caught in his throat as the smoke all but choked him, finally came the pain, the searing burn through his chest and abdomen as small bits of metal tore through flesh and muscle, tissue and bone and embedded themselves into his body leaving a trail of destruction, blood, shock and damage in their wake.

Honk! Honk! Honk!

"Martin, Martin."

Martin turned to his right and saw Danny staring at him blood pouring from his forehead --

"Martin!"

Martin shook himself and turned to his right and saw Danny staring at him in confusion, cell phone held to his ear.

"Martin, the light is green."

Looking forward Martin saw the light was green, the blue van that had pulled in front of him was several car lengths down the street and all other traffic was moving. The sound of the horn honking from behind him sounded again and numbly he pressed down on the gas pedal resuming their travel to the office.

As the week passed Martin found it increasingly difficult to get any quality sleep at night. No sooner would he fall asleep when his mind was assailed by flashes of light and the thundering sound of bullets. He'd wake choking on imaginary gun smoke clutching at his chest in agony only to realize there was no blood, no holes. Once he was so caught up in the sensations assaulting him that he tore his shirt so frantic were his efforts to check for bullet holes.

Each day he'd piece himself together though and head into the office as if everything was fine. The last thing he wanted now was for anyone to be second guessing his fitness for work. Van Doren had made no further suggestions about adding another agent, he and Sam had found their friendship again, Danny and he were joking like always, Jack was leaning on him to carry cases especially now as Jack was still reeling a bit from the death of his long-time friend and Vivian and he no longer walked around with sympathetic glances thrown their way, both fully up to speed and neither found themselves seeking out the other for commiseration at the 'kid glove like treatment.'

So rather than share his new found memories or seek 'deep emotional' conversations with anyone Martin tried to lock them away figuring that since he and Danny had both finally made peace with their respective roles in the shooting the last thing he wanted was to drag Danny down into some self-pitying spiral with him.

However he realized something would have to change and change rapidly once he started to work the following week. It had now been just shy of two weeks since his tumble down the stairs and subsequent trip to the ER and though much of the physical aches and pains had disappeared his inability to get any quality sleep was severely affecting not only his mental concentration but his physical appearance. When he looked in the mirror that morning in preparation for shaving he realized he had serious bags under his eyes which were evidently bloodshot and his complexion was pale.

Rubbing his face did nothing to remove any of the negative aspects of his appearance and he knew he was unlikely to escape anyone's scrutiny today.

True enough shortly after he arrived he was summoned to Jack's office.

"Hey, Jack, what's up?" Martin asked hoping for a casual tone.

"Martin, have a seat." Jack gestured without standing from his chair behind the desk.

Martin allowed the door to close behind him as he stepped fully into Jack's office and sat down in one of the chairs across the desk from his boss.

"How you doing?" Jack set his glasses down, folded his hands on the paperwork in front of him and faced Martin assessing him.

"I'm fine, why do you ask?" Martin responded trying to keep his voice neutral and create a mildly curious facial expression.

"You look – you look off today and since you had the weekend off and not too eventful of a week last week, I'm surprised that's all."

Martin forced a small laugh and went for what he hoped was an amused look on his face when he replied, "Jack, uh, just haven't slept that great for a couple of days nothing more than that."

"Any particular reason?"

"Not that I'm aware of, look every now and again I lose a little sleep, no big deal, I stay up and read a book and then by the time I'm ready for sleep it's time to get up."

Jack nodded silently as he evaluated Martin's response. "Good book?"

"What?"

"You said you read a book, what's the title of it?" Jack's eyes narrowed slightly.

Martin paused a moment before he answered. "I was reading Alive, the story about the rugby team that crashed in the Andes."

"Hmm." Jack responded.

Silence sat heavy between the two men for another few moments before Jack stood up signaling the end of the conversation.

"As long as you're doing all right. Just wanted to make sure."

"I'm fine, Jack, thanks for the concern." Martin stood and stepped to the door, opening it and stepping partway through before Jack's voice behind him stopped him.

"Why don't you head out a little early today if things remain quiet, get some sleep."

Martin swallowed and narrowed his eyes as he looked back at Jack. "Fine, we'll see what the day dictates and go from there."

With that Martin headed back to the bullpen and Jack remained standing at his desk watching.

The team remained quiet for the remainder of the day. Time was spent dealing with paperwork on some cases they were wrapping up as well as following some leads that came in on other cases.

When Jack entered the bullpen and pointedly cleared his throat at Martin, dutifully began packing up. Danny looked up from the conference table the two men had been working at watching curiously but keeping quiet. Jack took Martin's seat at the conference table and watched along with Danny who continued to throw curious and confused stares both at Martin and Jack. Once Martin left the area heading to the elevators, Danny leaned forward and addressed Jack.

"Uh, what was that all about, Jack?"

"Just making sure the team is running on all cylinders is all and Martin looks a little rough around the edges, so I sent him home early."

"Yeah, well he's been fine all day, hasn't missed a beat." Danny was a little defensive on Martin's behalf but at the same time a little relieved because although Martin had been on top of all the data they'd been reviewing and easily remembering facts and details Danny did notice how pale his features were and the dark circles under his eyes. He also noted and had lost count of how many times the man had yawned and rubbed at his eyes. Thoughtfully he returned his attention to the paperwork in front of him and quickly summarized some of their latest observations to Jack who spent the remainder of the afternoon working with him looking for any possible angles in the case that had eluded them so far.

Pain, hot pain searing through his chest and abdomen woke Martin from his sleep. Clutching at his chest and scrambling frantically to get free from the tangle of bed sheets Martin reached out for the light knocking several items off his bed stand in the process. Gasping for air and blinking his eyes as they adjusted to the now bright room he bent over at the edge of the bed trying to calm his mind and slow the rising nausea.

After a few moments he was able to lift his head without fear of dinner making an encore appearance and as his breathing slowed and his mind cleared he looked around at the clock checking the time. 12:30 a.m. Damn He'd only finally managed to get his mind to slow enough to allow him to drift off into an uneasy sleep shortly after 11:00 p.m. and now this latest nightmare had his system flooded with adrenaline; it would be awhile before he was able to calm himself enough to try sleeping again.

Great, Jack will take one look at me and send me home or worse, back to Lisa and then Van Doren will likely send down a message to Jack that perhaps he should rethink bringing a new agent onto the team.

Ruefully Martin stood up and immediately hopped to the side as his foot encountered something cold and wet. Looking down he realized the carpet was soaked and then he noticed that in his haste to turn the light on he'd managed to knock over the glass of water he kept at his bedside and the contents were dripping down the side of the table and puddling on the carpet. Also on the carpet was his watch which he grabbed quickly checking to make sure it had escaped the water – it had, and two pill bottles.

Plucking those from the floor as well he glanced quickly noting that one was for his recent prescription for Tylenol III and the other was a leftover from before for Vicodin. Absently he read the label, 'Take with food' 'Do not take with alcohol' 'Likely to cause drowsiness' – huh, well, hell, Martin thought, sleep is what the doctor otherwise known as Jack ordered.

Prying open the lid Martin shook the bottle gently noting about a dozen or so pills in there, no problem he thought, take one and get a good night's rest. Tipping the bottle so that one pill fell into the palm of his hand he recapped the bottle, picked up the tipped glass from the bed stand and walked to the bathroom to fill it. Tossing back the pill he swallowed it with a mouthful of water and then returned to the bedroom, wiped up the water on the table and floor with a towel he brought from the bathroom, climbing into bed, turned out the light and waited for sleep to reclaim him.

TBC…


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The next morning Martin awoke just before the alarm feeling more rested than he had in several days. Examining his face in the bathroom mirror while the shower water warmed up he noted the remnants of circles and a little redness in his eyes from lack of sleep but had to agree he looked better. After showering, shaving and getting dressed for work, he grabbed his coffee that had brewed thanks to the modern convenience of a timer. Breakfast was quick work this morning as he hoped to get into the office ahead of everyone else – well, except Jack, the man seemed to live there, but wanted a chance to be settled and at work.

Luck was with him this time and the beginning of his morning worked just as he'd hoped. He got into the office, satisfactorily passed Jack's inquiring glance and was working through some reports that had been dropped on his desk when the rest of the team arrived.

The day began with an odd case, a woman found in a mental health ward with no idea of who she was. Sam began lightly investigating it on Jack's okay, then Jack disappeared on personal business and before long the team was actively tracing this amnesiac woman's last days, hours, minutes trying to piece together her life. .

Martin focused on the case and as the day continued he didn't think of anything but the job and his next question, next search, next line of investigation. However, there were moments, the oddest moments, when something snuck up and grabbed him, like in the afternoon when he and Vivian were watching some video footage, all of a sudden he felt a stabbing pain in his abdomen and for a moment couldn't breathe, then the chills began and he struggled not to shiver although his skin was clammy and cold. However he brushed it off as the case was coming together quickly and by the end of the day he was only too happy to head home.

He was so thoroughly exhausted when he got home he was certain sleep would come without difficulty and he went to bed without any extra assistance. However as had happened in the past no sooner had he fallen asleep then the nightmares started. His subconscious mind had managed to record bits and images and was mixing them up in his head and bringing them forward.

Without the distraction of conscious thought Martin's mind sifted and sorted the images and played them constantly and with increasing speed so that his sleep was filled with images of bullets and weapons' flashes and a car slamming into a gunman; he 'saw' himself falling down a flight of metal steps; Dornvald standing over him shooting him over and over again; Danny bleeding, his own chest oozing blood until at last he would bolt upright in bed shaking, dripping in sweat, panting and stumbling to turn on the light while checking his chest and abdomen for blood.

Rising from his bed Martin headed to the bathroom and ran cold water over his face trying to wipe the sweat away. Peeling off his t-shirt that was soaked in sweat he tossed it into the hamper. He wet a washcloth, wrung it semi-dry and then wiped the cool cloth over his arms and up his shoulders, across his chest and abdomen wiping away the sweat and cooling his body. His eyes watched the movement of the cloth in the mirror and he stopped and stared at the scars that would forever be reminders of how much his life has been changed.

Rousing himself from his reverie Martin opened the medicine cabinet, grabbed the bottle of Vicodin, popped the lid and shook one pill into his hand. Glaring at the tablet as if it were the enemy for a moment he popped into his mouth and dry swallowed it. Tossing the bottle back into the cabinet he closed the door forcibly, put the wash cloth back on the towel bar and headed back to his bedroom. Deciding to forego a shirt for the remainder of the night he climbed back into bed, switched out the light and resigned himself to the sleep that would come when the pill finally began to work.

The next two weeks passed in similar fashion, during the night Martin slept soundly never bothered by any dreams or flashes of pain, however, during the daytime it was a different story. During the day he would frequently be assaulted with flashes in his mind, sometimes he would conjure sounds that had him looking around to see if someone had actually spoken or perhaps heard the sounds he did.

He caught himself once while standing at the white board adding information to the timeline of their recent case and he 'heard' gunshots, it was only through extreme control was he able to hide his fear and his instinctive desire to duck for cover. The only other person in the bullpen at that time was Danny and while Martin had been telling Danny what he was adding to the board, Danny had his back to Martin grabbing some sheets off the printer and didn't seem to notice that Martin's voice hesitated for a longer than normal period of time.

Another incident occurred when he, Danny and Sam were searching in a hospital following a lead on their latest missing person, a paramedic. They split up and Martin found himself in the ER talking to other EMS teams that were there.

As he was showing their MP's photo the doors to the ambulance bay whooshed open and personnel came rushing through with an injured person on a stretcher. As they rushed past he heard the paramedic inform the doctor: "White male, mid-30's gunshot wound to abdomen." As the words hit his ears he felt a slash of pain across his torso and images flashed through his brain. He could 'see' fluorescent lights flashing above him; 'feel' his body strapped to a backboard, his neck contained in a cervical collar. He 'felt' the movement of the stretcher as he was wheeled into a room.

As rapidly as the stretcher bearing the injured victim passed him by so did the images and sensations. Martin was left shaking with chills while beads of perspiration dotted his forehead. Using the ensuing activity as an excuse he slipped out of the ER and stepped out into the ambulance bay eager to get some fresh air to clear his mind. Danny found him there a short time later.

"Martin, hey, I've been looking for you. We found his partner and he's heading to the office with Sam right now. Martin?" Danny stopped in front of Martin and noted the pallor of his partner's face. He reached out a hand to touch his shoulder but stopped just as he saw Martin's eyes flash recognition at his presence. "Did you hear me? Hey, you okay, man?"

Martin cleared his throat and rubbed a shaky hand over his face before turning to face Danny fully. "Yeah, man, I'm fine. Just need some lunch or something, low blood sugar. So, we're out of here you said?"

Danny narrowed his eyes and assessed his partner thoughtfully as he answered. "Yeah, we're good. I came to find you, so let's go."

"Great."

That night Martin's sleep was fitful at best as the bottle of Vicodin, the container of his enemy and ally of the past few weeks, was empty. With no pills to help with sleep Martin passed the night alternately staring out the window at the scene of the city at night and tossing in his bed.

The next week Martin's physical appearance started showing the strain of the mental and emotional burden he had managed to contain up until then.

"Martin, hold the elevator for me." Danny called. Martin paused halfway into the elevator, turned and saw Danny jogging to catch up. Danny reached the elevator and stepped in behind him. As the doors closed he turned to look at his partner and friend who was doing his best to appear normal.

"So, interesting case today, huh?" Danny started neutrally as the elevator began its descent.

"I suppose."

"How 'bout we grab some dinner, there's that great steak place just around the corner, my treat."

Just then the elevator signaled the ending of their descent, garage level. As the doors opened Martin stepped out of the car and turned to Danny who was following closely. "Sounds good," his agreement surprising them both.

The two friends ate their dinner in a companionable manner while chatting about sports. When their plates had been cleared Danny asked the waiter for two cups of coffee and then sat calmly, waiting while Martin eyed him suspiciously. After the waiter delivered their coffee, Danny spoke.

"You know that case we had a week or so ago with the paramedic?"

Martin looked at Danny with confusion. "Yeah." He remembered it just fine, the hospital, the ER, the sleepless nights since then, yeah, he remembered all right.

"You know when Cole got shot – I tried to stop the bleeding." Danny looked at his hands that he'd raised slightly, palm up. "I couldn't though."

Martin sat quietly.

"Sometimes I still see it, you know, the blood." Danny stopped speaking and studied his hands another moment before he looked at Martin who was watching him carefully.

"For a moment it was like being back in the street – back when Dornvald…"

Martin nodded and for the next few minutes neither man spoke. Martin chanced a couple of looks at Danny. He could tell his friend was struggling a bit with the memories. Strangely relieved that he wasn't alone in dealing with flashes back to the shooting he decided to throw a couple of his cards on the table.

"Right after the fall down the stairs, you know, when chasing Simmons, it was like I – I could 'see' –I don't know how to say this without you thinking I'm crazy but I could _see_ images in my mind . . . flashes of things that go back to the shooting."

Danny nodded encouragingly he knew just what Martin was talking about. How many times had he awoken in the night with images of Martin's blood gushing through his hands; he'd lost count.

"When Sam took me to the pharmacy that night and went inside leaving me out in the car I must have dozed off a bit but then I heard a horn and when I opened my eyes there was a blue van in front of me and Dornvald appeared and shooting started – only," Martin chuckled nervously, "only there wasn't anything or anybody there."

Stopping for a moment already afraid he'd said too much Martin chanced a quick sip of his coffee and glanced surreptitiously at Danny gauging his friend's response. To his relief Danny looked thoughtful and calm there was no incredulity or judgment in his expression.

"I still jump if a car backfires. Also, I don't always sleep that great." Danny added.

"Yeah, I was having trouble sleeping and that's why Jack got on my case and sent me home early."

"I remember. So is it getting any easier?

"It was." Martin replied and stopped as his cell phone began to ring. Pulling it from his jacket he noted the caller ID, command post at MPU. Sighing inwardly, as he figured it was a case and he was catching this week he gave Danny a quick glance and mouthed the word "case" as he flipped open his phone and answered

Danny listened to the side of the call he could hear and since he was backup this week quickly realized they'd caught a missing person case; at least they'd gotten a decent meal.

Thirty minutes later the two of them were in a parking garage with the police and evidence techs trying to piece together the slim fragments of information they'd been given on their latest MP, Gina Hill, psychiatrist. Danny talked with the tech who was measuring the strip of rubber that appeared fresh, likely left by whoever abducted Dr. Hill. After ascertaining that an SUV was the likely vehicle to have left such a track he returned to the doctor's car where Martin was searching while an evidence technician finished shooting pictures. Danny noted Martin flinched each time the flash went off but quickly recomposed his face, hiding the reaction.

As Martin stepped from the car Danny came up beside him and filled him in. _**"Looks like a robbery gone bad.**_"

"Yeah, I don't know. _**Her ID is missing but there's still two hundred bucks in her purse.**_" Martin gestured to the purse that was lying just to the rear of the car, the contents spilled onto the concrete. _**"And it looks like she went down swinging, look at the scuff marks from her shoes when she was dragged away."**_

"_**Looks like she was dragged into a truck or SUV based on the rubber left behind. The driver smashed through the guard arm at the exit as they lit out of here. Whoever did this wasn't taking no for an answer."**_

The two agents shared an experienced look knowing the slim evidence they had thus far did not bode well for their MP.

An hour later the team was back in action. Samantha and Martin were at Don McGraw's residence, Gina Hill's fiancé. As Sam questioned the man about Gina's habits, any strange phone calls or hang ups, any suspicious mail or people she seemed to be afraid of Martin struggled to take notes. Several times he had to stop and clench and unclench his hand in an effort to stop the shaking and then began taking notes again. At the end of the interview he flipped the pad closed and placed it inside his jacket pocket while making a mental note to be sure no one saw those notes as the handwriting was slanted and shaking and anyone who saw it would know something was wrong. He didn't want anyone looking at him as if he was fragile anymore.

By morning the team was still no closer to finding Gina Hill and the toll from the back to back cases showed on everyone. Coffee and the adrenaline needed to fuel an investigation kept people going but only for so long and one by one the team alternated in grabbing a couple hours of shut eye. For Martin's part his few short hours of down time was spent taking a long hot shower trying to ease sore muscles and tension and then fitfully tossing on his couch for less than an hour before giving up entirely.

The drive back downtown proved as disturbing as the ride uptown had been only a short time earlier. At each red light he was forced to stop at his heart would race and he'd begin to sweat. Great, by the time I get back to the office I'm gonna need to change my shirt.

It didn't help that twice other vehicles cut in front of him when he was slowing for a red light and he was forced to swallow back on the bile that threatened.

Upon arriving at the office he quickly stopped at the men's room to splash some water on his face and tried to compose himself. After a few minutes he felt able to make it to his desk without either throwing up or letting anyone see that he was at less than full speed.

In the bullpen the team was running down their leads and sharing their information when Martin arrived. The afternoon raced by as leads were followed out, anxious calls by Gina's fiancé were returned and then the pattern emerged as Vince was identified and rapidly the pieces came together. Once they figured out Vince was the 'other man' in Gina's life the team tracked down other women who had been lured into his dangerous web, the atmosphere took on a charged quality as if the team sensed their time, and thus Gina's was running low. When security footage came in from a local pawn shop showing Gina Hill with the man they identified as Vince buying a rifle, they knew their time was up.

Martin pulled up outside Gina's residence. The lights were on and there were vehicles in the driveway. He crept cautiously to the window and peered inside. He saw Gina and Don, Don tied up and Gina shaking in fear, he angled his eyes slightly and saw the reason for the fear, Vince.

Stepping back from the window he pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial to Jack.

"Malone."

"Hey, Jack, he's here. He's at Gina's house."

"Okay. We're going to send the cavalry in. Don't do anything until they get there." Jack commanded.

Martin was about to answer when raised voices from inside the house caught his attention. He stepped closer and heard Vin shouting for Gina to shut up.

Stepping back he put his phone back up to his ear. "Look, things are coming apart in there. I've got to go." Flipping his phone shut he slipped it back inside his jacket pocket, pulled his gun from the holster and moved quickly to the back door. Trying the knob quietly he was relieved when it turned easily and opened, unlocked. Good.

Stepping through the door he quickly and quietly closed it behind him. Tightening his grip on the handle of his gun he stepped through the kitchen and positioned himself at the edge of the room behind the doorframe and listened to the voices in the other room.

"You betrayed me, Gina. Just like all these women do." Vince yelled.

"Just stop. Just stop this and you can walk away."

Martin could hear the pleading fear in Gina's voice. He knew enough about her and Vince to know that she was in way over her head, doctor of psychiatry notwithstanding, she had no idea what Vince was truly capable of doing.

"Oh, I'm going to walk away when I'm done here."

At Vince's infuriated response Martin risked a quick glance into the room to assess the situation. As he did he felt a wave of nausea roll over him and clamped his teeth hard on the inside of his mouth to keep his focus. His eyes swept the room and he saw Vince and the gun he holds, he saw Gina pleading for it all to end. Ducking back from the edge of the doorframe Martin looked at the gun in his hand and saw his hand shaking. Pulling in a column of air down into his lungs he willed the pain to stop flaring in his chest, the sound of bullets raining against metal to silence in his head, he pushed back the sound of desperation in Danny's voice and the sensation of being dragged from a car and lain onto the cold, wet pavement while his shirt was soaking with his own blood and sticking to his chest.

"You can take some money, just…"Gina pleads.

"This isn't about money. It never was!" Vince shouts.

"Okay. Please, Vince, just leave him out of this, okay?"

"You want me to hurt him, this fine upstanding man of yours, because I am going to blow his head off!"

"Baby, I'll do anything. Just let him go. I'll do anything you want."

"You're going to have to work really hard to change my mind."

"I'm going to give you whatever you want."

"Ah, see. That's what I'm talking about. Listen, I hope you get a good view of this one."

Martin focused again and stuck his head and gun hand around the doorframe. "FBI. Drop the gun!"

Immediately Martin ducked back behind the wall as Vince whirled and fired a volley that punched holes into the wall. Acting on training and adrenaline Martin returned fire, two quick shots hit Vince dead center in the chest. The impact threw Vince backwards swinging the rifle to the ceiling where his trigger finger reacted off of nerve impulses still firing and sent the next volley straight up into the ceiling. As Vince was propelled back and away from Gina and Don Martin took a final shot, dead center and sent Vince through the glass door out into the chilly night air.

Forty minutes later Jack pulled up, lights blazing, siren wailing. He was ahead of the coroner but behind Danny and Sam who both managed to beat him to the address. He saw Sam talking to a police lieutenant standing over the body of Vince while crimes scene technicians started taking photos. He walked over briefly and looked down at Vince, noted the three holes 'center mass', the glass sprinkled around him, the curtains tangled beneath his body. Ducking under the crime scene tape he headed up the steps and into the house. There he saw Gina Hill and Don McGraw being checked by paramedics while Danny questioned them and jotted notes. Looking further he saw crime scene technicians photographing the living room scene and the interior of the window that Vince had been propelled through. Noting plaster on the floor he looked up and saw the damage to the ceiling when Vince apparently fired into the ceiling.

Seeing movement from beyond the living room Jack focused and saw Martin appear. He took in the sight of his agent, pale, dark circles under his eyes, expression almost dazed perhaps desperate. Narrowing his eyes Jack flicked his gaze to Danny who had turned abruptly upon hearing Martin's approach. There was something watchful, intense in Danny's eyes as if was assessing his partner. Jack noted the subtle movement on Danny's part as if in support and he watched Martin's reaction or complete nonreaction as if he wasn't even aware anyone else was there. Making a decision Jack approached his agent with a nonchalance he didn't feel but he didn't want to spook the man. Reaching Martin he gestured slightly and the two of them moved partially down a hall away from the occupants of the living room and front entrance.

"Martin, you all right?" Jack purposefully pitched his voice low both to keep others from overhearing as well as to not disturb the man.

Martin looked at him and then his eyes slid right past him and stared off. Jack turned to look and found that Martin's line of sight still encompassed the remnants of the glass door through which Vince had exited the house.

Jack cast his gaze up and down and noted that beyond the pallor and dark circles that Martin was sweating and shivering. While Jack knew his agent was experienced, still it never got easier when firing one's gun and especially if that meant taking someone's life, but this seemed extreme.

"Why don't you tell me what happened." As senior agent he had to get a preliminary statement. In short clipped sentences Martin outlined everything that transpired since hanging up his cell call earlier. Jack listened and nodded and jotted a couple of short notes. When he asked Martin for his gun he learned Danny already had secured it.

"All right. I'm gonna have Danny and you go back to the office. You can start writing up your preliminary statement there and then head home. We'll tackle this more tomorrow. All right?"

For a moment Jack wasn't certain if he'd been heard but then Martin nodded his head slightly. Putting his hand on Martin's shoulder Jack squeezed briefly and then turned back to find Danny standing there watching the two of them.

"You secured his gun?"

"I have it here." Danny reached into his overcoat and pulled the gun, encased in its holster, out and handed it to Jack.

"Good. I want you take him back to the office. He's given me a statement. I need him to write up his preliminary statement for review and put it on my desk. Then take him home. He'll be interviewed by the shooting review team tomorrow."

"Got it."

Turning back to Martin Jack found him still standing in almost the exact position he'd left him.

"Martin."

Martin's eyes focused a bit and he turned to look at Jack. For a moment the room spun and instead of seeing Jack standing less than five feet above him he saw Jack hovering beside him. For a moment he felt the cold wet pavement on his back. For a moment he felt pressure on his chest that made it near impossible to breathe. He heard Jack's voice speaking but it was as if he was far away and while he could see his lips moving he couldn't make out the words.

"Martin!"

Blinking his eyes rapidly Martin shook his head slightly and realized that Jack was standing right in front of him. Turning slightly he took in the sight of Gina Hill's living room and saw flashes from cameras recording a photographic diary of the scene while other techs lifted bullets from the ceiling and took measurements on the floor.

"Martin, I'm going to have Danny take you back to the office. All right?"

"Yeah."

"I need you to go with Danny now. All right?"

"Sure."

Martin followed Danny out of the house, down the steps, under the crime scene tape and out to the curb where Danny's car was parked. Climbing into the passenger side he mechanically fastened his seatbelt and then sat, hands folded on his lap and waited for Danny to drive the car.

Outside Jack stopped Danny with a hand to his shoulder. Surprised Danny turned to look at him.

"What is it?"

"I think he's in shock. Get him warm. Get his prelim quick and then get him home."

"Got it, Jack."

On the drive back to the office Danny kept glancing over at Martin who for his part seemed oblivious of the scrutiny and sat quietly in the passenger seat. At the office Danny followed Martin off the elevator and down the corridor to the bullpen. He watched as Martin booted up his computer, shrugged his jacket off and settled in beginning to type. Danny sat at his desk and typed all his notes from his interviews at the Hill residence into an after action summary and then listed the questions he'd need to review again before they were done.

By the time Danny completed that task Martin was printing his summary. The two men moved to the small conference table in the middle of the bullpen and Danny went scanned through the summation and then began asking the questions all over again looking for any changes in the details, there were none.

Danny hadn't doubted Martin's story the first time he'd heard it and since his interviews of Gina and her fiancé only verified Martin's actions he didn't expect anything to change. What was troubling though was that Martin's responses were almost robotic, as if he was reciting actions that he'd seen, not actions he'd participated in. Danny looked closely and noted that Martin's eyes were unfocused, his skin pale and there was a thin sheen of perspiration on his face and yet the man trembled as if he was cold.

Running quickly through the rest of the questions Danny jotted his notes and left everything on Jack's desk. He'd call and explain why his full analysis wasn't typed after he got Martin settled at home; Jack was right, the man was in shock.

45 minutes later he pushed open Martin's apartment door and followed him inside. Martin had kept his hands stuffed in his overcoat pocket ever since they left the office, even seated in the car, and now as Danny stood just inside Martin's apartment he watched as his friend just stood there hunched in his jacket with his hands stuffed in the pockets.

"Why don't you grab a shower, I'll make us something to eat." Danny watched as Martin's eyes met his briefly and saw doubt and fear and something he couldn't quite finger before the man shuffled down the hall to his bedroom still wearing the overcoat.

15 minutes later he heard footsteps just as he settled a plate with a sandwich and a bowl of Campbell's tomato soup at the table for the two of them. Looking up he saw Martin standing there watching him, his hair slightly damp from the shower and dressed in a pair of jeans and a thick pullover.

"Sit down, soup's hot." Danny indicated as he pulled out a chair and sat down. When Martin continued to stand he looked up and saw Martin holding his hand out to him. Puzzled Danny extended his hand and watched as an orange bottle dropped into it. Looking at the bottle and then back at Martin he conveyed his confusion with the wrinkling of his eyebrows.

"Remember when you asked me if it was getting any easier to sleep."

"Yeah."

"It was while I had the Vicodin; then I ran out."

Unconsciously Danny shook the pill bottle slightly and was surprised when he heard pills rattle within.

"That's not mine."

"Okay." Danny kept his voice low and neutral.

"I got that from – I got that --" Martin swallowed and swayed slightly on his feet before pulling out his chair and slumping heavily into it.

"Where did you get this?"

"I got it tonight at Gina Hill's. I ran out of pills a little while ago and since then I can't get it to stop."

Danny looked at the small bottle in his hand sure enough the prescription was made out to Gina Hill. Setting the bottle on the table in front of him he focused his attention back on the man in front of him.

"My mind won't stop playing the sounds."

"What do you hear?"

"Sometimes it's the sound of bullets ricocheting off of metal, sometimes it's a horn, sometimes it's…" Martin trailed off.

"What, sometimes it's what?"

"Sometimes it's you. I hear you calling my name or calling for the EMS. That case we had with the paramedic, when I was at the hospital interviewing people in the ER an ambulance crew brought someone in with a gunshot wound, all of a sudden I saw in my mind the images of fluorescent lights going overhead and felt like I was on a stretcher being wheeled into the ER."

"But you were unconscious for that."

"Was I? I don't know, maybe I was, maybe some part of me wasn't and was aware of what was happening to me, all I know is this keeps playing in my mind and I can't get it to stop."

"But you could before?"

"Yeah, I still had some of the pills left from when I was shot and I knew they made me pretty sleepy so I took one a night and got rest. Nothing helped during the day though and now that I'm out I don't sleep at night and I barely function during the day and then the whole shooting at Gina's tonight, Danny I could taste the blood in my mouth. I felt the bullets in my chest – when I shot Vince it was like those bullets were slicing me open. And I'm so cold and I can't stop shaking and – and I'm certain I'm losing my mind all over again."

Danny knew enough from his own bout of posttraumatic stress that this was beyond him, this was Lisa's specialty. After sitting quietly for a moment or two he tried again.

"Have you considered talking to Lisa again?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

Martin sighed, "I was hoping it would go away."

"How's that worked so far?"

Martin gave Danny a wry grin as he answered. "It hasn't helped at all."

"I didn't think so. So what do you say tomorrow –"

"I'll give her a call." Martin said resignedly.

"Hey, man, I'm not into the touchy feely stuff either and talking about your emotions but she helped last time didn't she?"

"Yeah, I was just hoping to be past all this, you know." Martin leaned forward and grabbed the spoon on his placemat and started sipping the soup. After a few spoonfuls he picked up half the sandwich from the plate took a bite.

Encouraged by his friend's willingness to at least eat Danny began doing the same.

"Still don't know how I'm going to get through tonight though." Martin stated softly.

"I do."

Martin looked up straight into Danny's eyes.

"How?"

"A little one on one at the court at the all-night gym. Then tomorrow, I drive you in and you meet with Lisa."

Martin looked at Danny's face and after a moment began to grin at his friend's positive expression.

"So we end the day on – what is it?"

"Well, when I whump your ass, which is what's gonna happen, we end the day on an up note. And there's no down note this time." With that Danny picked up the bottle of pills and tossed them to Martin. Martin caught them with one hand and then tossed them right back. Danny smiled as he slipped the pills into his pocket and zipped it closed over them; tomorrow he'd worry about getting them back into Gina Hill's house, tonight, tonight he was gonna play a little hoops with his friend and help him get through one of the toughest nights of any man's life.

THE END.


End file.
